


Minu ga Hana

by rana_dorada_9



Category: Original Work
Genre: LGBT, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, Slice of Life, Work In Progress, llama in a wig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 41,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rana_dorada_9/pseuds/rana_dorada_9
Summary: Aspiring paranormal investigator Manami Hayase has struggled to get her business off the ground. When a mysterious visitor stops by one night, however, he brings evidence that motivates her like never before. From there, the people she meets and the situations she faces make it clear the world isn’t quite what she expected. In fact, it may be even better.





	1. A Tall Silhouette I

The setting sun bowed towards the horizon, tinting the air a gentle shade of coral orange. In such unexpectedly pleasant weather, the many colors washing over the cloudless sky seemed like an aura of tranquility taking over the usual daytime rush. The busiest hours of the day had long since passed, leaving few people to walk about the normally crowded streets.

The street was especially quiet that evening, with many shops and venues therein having closed their doors for the day. Old brick buildings two or three stories high were complemented by colorful awnings and vintage-style streetlamps along the sidewalk, the latter of which turned on one by one in the waning daylight. Several empty paved lots were decorated with trees and benches, the sides of adjacent buildings often decked with murals showing the local flavor. Overall it had a classic downtown look and feel, despite its distance from the actual city center.

The glow escaping windows of residential lofts or apartments seemed to be the only signs of life in the area, yet one could barely discern an odd silhouette pacing around a certain darkened second-story room. The entrance was along the street, an unmarked aluminum-framed barred glass door situated between a 24-hour corner laundromat and a convenience store advertising similar availability. Despite the normal flow of visitors to these locales, this door was largely ignored- perhaps because most of the time, it was locked.

Inside was a simple stairway with a wrought-iron banister, the steel blue walls standing out against the duller cadet grey floors. Beneath that was a space where a turquoise and amber bicycle was stored, and ascending it led to two doors. To the left, a warm and cozy light filtered into the dark stairway from a frosted glass window centered on the top half of a taupe wooden door, occluded by a pink gingham curtain. It radiated across the way to an identical door, though on this one the window was clearly labeled.

_Manami Hayase  
Paranormal Investigator_

Above this name and title was a logo- a stylized magnifying glass highlighting a flying saucer. Though the room was dim and the glass purposely cloudy, the sunset illuminated enough to show a tall figure inside. It was the same odd silhouette as could be seen from the window facing the street, that of the woman whose name was advertised. She was Manami Hayase.

“This is it!” She raised her arms in triumph. Manami was talking to herself in Japanese, as was her habit when she was alone.

Manami was a sight to behold, and for several reasons. First was her stature, which at about six feet made her noticeably tall. Her lean form was made up mostly of her legs, making her look rather spindly and gawky. She had knobby joints, which were shown most obviously by her knees. Her shoulders were rather broad, but her hands and feet were small.

The other reason was her unique fashion sense. A violet blazer over a pale lavender-grey camisole would normally give her a professional air, but not when paired with her other garments. Next came a ruffled miniskirt with two layers, the top colored a faint grey and the bottom a deep eggplant shade- to be honest, it looked more like a tutu. With that were knee-high black boots fastened by copious amounts of silver buckles, their thick wedge heels exaggerating her height further. The finishing touches were dull mauve-brown leggings and black lace fingerless gloves; the latter showed off her clear nail polish with turquoise, amber, and creamy white flecks.

Her makeup was along the same lines as her clothes, starting with silvery lavender eyeshadow accentuating her large eyes. Shapely lips bore a shiny gloss matching her pale skin tone, hiding their natural rosiness that stood out against her ghostly complexion. Large silver earrings were shaped like crescents pointed downwards, a row of three holes in the center breaking up the otherwise solid plate. On her high, glittered cheekbones were a few round silver gem stickers, one among them on her right side larger and shaped like a star.

Perhaps the centerpiece was a common feature to her outfits; a large hat. That day she wore a pale grey one with a very wide brim, which looked to be sticking out at least twelve inches from the sides of her head. A large, dull violet silk rose was fixed to a matching hat band and sat to her left. Flowing from beneath it and down to her waist was her hair, which was dyed a vivid, shiny indigo and had its natural wave curled even tighter.

“My paranormal investigation is officially open for business!”

That proclamation reminded to check her smartphone again for updates from clients. It was good form to do so, since she wanted to keep on top of things. However, her deep brown eyes searched the screen in vain. That is, except for the date; May 5th.

“Look at that… I’ve _been_ open for three months, as of last Thursday!”

That pesky little fact made her groan.


	2. A Tall Silhouette II

Manami sighed and rubbed her temples. Maybe she was being too pessimistic. How could she let a little downtime stop her?

This venture would be worth it, and her success with the paranormal club at The University of Minnesota was enough to convince her of that- except now, their laziness would no longer burden her. Manami was free to carry out investigations without others dragging her down. Indeed, it often seemed like her fellow club members were obstructive just for the sake of being obstructive.

She may have tried to psych herself up, but several lingering doubts kept coming to mind. Three months was a long time to go without results. She was definitely interested in profiting from doing what she loved, and indeed bills were piling up fast. Continuing to rely on her parents back in Sapporo or doing odd jobs for money was starting to wear on her, and it distanced her from the success she felt she deserved.

The only prospective clients to have called made for a grim outlook, too. There were plenty of no-shows and prank calls, the latter being the worst part. She felt that for every open-minded person who listened to her talk about the paranormal and supernatural, there were two skeptics who tried to disprove her every belief. Then they would usually say unkind things about her mental state. Rude!

But that could have been her being pessimistic again. Indeed, word of mouth was often the best way to advertise. Just to be safe, however, she’d recently spent a small fortune putting her ads online and in the papers. That would at least put a face to her name, and the outfit she’d worn for the photo would surely garner attention.

She looked to the window on the far side of the room, seeing the faintest sliver of the setting sun disappearing behind the building across the street. At that point, few things were left to illuminate the cluttered room; bright red digits of a digital clock read 20:27 (per her preferred time format) and the calming glow of a blue lava lamp emanated from her desk. Knowing this, she detoured to turn on the lights. Navigating around a glass-top wooden coffee table piled with magazines and newspapers, she knelt on a low-back periwinkle sofa to peer to the outside world.

The window was slightly ajar, allowing the evening air to billow inside. She heard individuals chatting as they entered the store below, as well as the occasional car puttering by. The air had a slight smoky quality, perhaps from people outside grilling to enjoy the weather.

“At least they know I’m here.” She saw few people heading up and down the sidewalk opposite her building, but she took careful note of each and every one. A stout man with body mods, aqua-tipped hair, and many tattoos; a rotund older lady in a floral dress and darker mauve scarf; a blonde woman with a pixie haircut taking an important phone call on a bench under a tree; a tall, balding fellow walking his excitable yellow Labrador retriever. Each had their story to share, no doubt with unexplainable experiences in tow. It only made sense that clients would contact her eventually. “I’m here and they know what I do.”

Foremost in her mind was the Battle of Nicollet Island, an event that happened more decades ago. Details about the event were sparse and inconsistent, but many spoke of it as a revelation of sorts- proof that the paranormal was indeed real and right there under their noses. It was usually written off as an urban legend by the locals in the passing years, but it was probably the biggest reason why Manami was here. It simply fascinated her.

Her fingertips briefly pressed against the window pane to slide it shut. Suddenly the faint noises from outside went silent, and it was like she could isolate itself even more. Her mind was indeed stirring with ideas, but in a good way. She was focusing on solutions rather than failure.

“There’s so much out there to be uncovered.” As she watched the sun sink into obscurity, she wore a subtle smile many compared to the Mona Lisa. “And I’m glad part of that job’s already been done for me.”


	3. A Tall Silhouette III

“I’m talking to myself too much.” Manami shook her head. Her fairly singsong tone showed her sense of humor about it, and in fact it took her a moment to recognize that odd habit surfacing again. She wondered if that meant that she was either excited or worried about the future of her agency. Frighteningly, it could have been both- or even more! Manami talking to herself was a sign that something important was certainly on her mind, for better or for worse.

“I hope that doesn’t keep me up at night.” She repositioned herself to sit rather than kneel on the sofa, hands on her knees. It was a likely eventuality, known to happen plenty of times before. On the bright side, that would at least give her plenty of time to plan her next course of action. It could also give her time to tidy up a bit, since clutter seemed to pile up around her office more and more by the day.

And not long after that, she was snoring loudly on the sofa. So long, insomnia!

Her limbs were sprawled out on the sofa, and her indigo hair fell all over the place in a tangled mess. Several of her face gems had fallen off in her slumber, and glitter was smeared on parts of the cushion where her face had touched. Drool trickled down the sides of her mouth, and dried mascara was smudged around her eyelids. Truly not the look she was aiming for that day.

* * *

The streets below were even quieter than they were hours ago. There were still occasional visitors to the laundromat and convenience store on the ground level, though these were more hurried to get in and out rather than take a leisurely walk. Evidently, only two figures had nothing to do with either venue. One with rosy pink hair and indeterminate gender presentation hurried past while walking a corgi, while the other stood silently outside the door to Manami’s stairway.

The man at the door was huge, with a rectangular body shape easily likened to a wall. Conversely, his posture suggested meekness as he appeared to be staring at his feet. His hands were in the pockets of his worn-out sky blue hooded jacket, and his tan shoes with brown highlights were similarly tattered. Curiously, these were paired with turquoise medical scrubs.

He waited carefully in the dark between two lampposts, their light far enough away from him and apart from each other that neither one shone on him very much. Despite the low light obscuring many of his features, his fatigued body language was clear. Similarly, he bore obvious stubble that suggested a long and busy day. His thick, curly hair was drawn back into a messy ponytail that ended just below his shoulders, with several escaped strands hovering around his head. Why he was there when he could have been at home resting was a very good question.

He wondered what it would take for him to press the intercom button on the door frame and get the ball rolling. The more he waited, however, the more conspicuous he became. He even caught sight of a man entering the store to his right stopping briefly to stare at him, no doubt with the intent to ask questions. A sullen look was enough to send that other man on his way, but it still set his heart to a heavier beat. Clearly, this would be tougher than it looked.

“Come on…” He was speaking under his breath in Spanish. Without knowing it yet, he already had something in common with the woman he wanted to meet. He was even doing so for the same reason; to deal with his troubled soul. This visit had better be worth it.

“I can do this…” But could he? Taking out his hand from his pocket, he trembled as he reached towards the door. In a moment, though, his hand had withdrawn to run his fingers nervously through his dark ash brown tresses. Sweat was gathering quickly on his brow. His hazel eyes peered up at his reflection in the glass and he grumbled. He hated hesitating as often as he did.

The alternative to carrying out his plan was to walk away and leave himself guessing. That was no better. The last thing he wanted was more regret.

“For him…”

The large man was reminding himself of a goal.

“ _For him…_ ”


	4. A Tall Silhouette IV

A loud buzz escaped the speakers of a small intercom on Manami’s desk, which was virtually camouflaged by other items heaped on her desk; a lava lamp, a chrome laptop, a tablet in a fancy violet case, unopened letters, half-finished gadgets, a rice cooker, cardboard boxes, an half-finished bag of crackers, countless pens, and so on. The sound was so loud and sudden that it effortlessly shook her from her sleep.

“ _Gyaaaahh!_ ” Her eyes sprung open at that surprise, and she almost fell off the sofa. Had she really fallen asleep? That meant the 1920s-themed party she was attending was all just a dream. That was quite a shame, since those art deco wall panels were really cool! At least it had given her more ideas for outfits.

But now she had to figure out why her intercom alarm was going off. Since it was linked to her phone, she scrambled for it until finally finding it between the couch and table. Though there was still a bit of blur to her vision, she could still tell what it was- a black smartphone with kiwi green lining, which was the same color as the stereotypical alien face on the back.

“22:30?” She was surprised once she got a good look at the time. She thought her intercom automatically shut off after 9 PM, though in retrospect that might have been a feature she merely wanted to set up instead of actually doing so. “This better be important and not some rowdy kids messing around.”

Instead of getting up right away, she opened up an app on her phone that would link her directly to the intercom. A menu appeared and she selected the first button, which gave her access to both the device and its camera rather than one or the other individually. The screen was smaller and grainier than that on her desk, but it served her well.

Having switched to night-vision view in the dark, the camera in the stairwell aimed at the door and brought up an image of her visitor. Her pulse quickened slightly as she saw the huge man behind the glass, his prominent brow casting a shadow over his eyes.

Yet as she looked closer, she realized the man looked familiar. Where had she seen him before? Rather than make assumptions, she figured it was better to reply.

“Hello, can I help you?” She decided to speak English to this unexpected stranger. There was no voice over the intercom, but she could hear enough background static to tell that he was pressing the button. Could he hear her? “Hellooo?”

“Hi?”

“Yes, can I help you?” Manami noticed the man was fumbling, even with the lackluster video quality.

“Yes, hi. I think I have a c-case for you. I know it’s late, but I saw your light was on an-and thought… well…” He seemed to struggle for the right words. To her it sounded like English was a second language for him- a situation she knew all too well. Though he looked intimidating, something about his voice sounded innocent.

“All right, come in.” She was excited to finally have a client, yet at the same time she was already suspicious. It was fair that he only stopped by because her lights were on, but it seemed like a good setup for a prank. Pressing a button on her intercom app, the door to the stairwell unlatched and he could enter.

She heard him walking up the stairs, each step slow and heavy. She was giving him the benefit of the doubt, but at the same time she had her pepper spray ready in her lapel pocket just in case.

Grabbing and donning her hat, she headed to the door just in time to see a massive shadow moving toward the glass. She made quick work of the deadbolt, the loud clack followed by the soft creak of the turning doorknob. Slowly, she opened the door and held it loosely in her increasingly sweaty grip.

“Hi!” She peered at the man on the other side of the doorway.

With the following silence, the two faced each other for several uncomfortable seconds. The man she saw before her was thick and had broad shoulders suggesting his strength, but on getting a closer look he was softer and pudgier than expected. By her estimates, he had to weigh over three hundred pounds. His rectangular face bowed into a slight double chin, and his lips formed a natural frown. His blunt nose was large, with a shallow curve to the bridge. There were cool undertones to his tan skin, beset by dark circles under his eyes showing his weariness.

At the same time, he saw the pale, thin woman in strange clothes. He was impressed that in her high heels, she was around his height. Her oblong face was accentuated by high cheekbones and a tall nose, and a swan-like neck suited the rest of her lanky form. Her large eyes seemed expressive to him, yet now they looked tired like she had just woken up- her smeared makeup and tousled hair added to that notion. What caught his attention the most, though, was her gigantic hat. Where did she find that thing?

“Hi?” Manami waved at him, phone in hand.

He abruptly said the first word that came to mind. “…Hat.”

Manami furrowed her brow at that strange remark, but she sensed his discomfort. He might have put a lot of effort into visiting her that night. He didn’t need to take it that seriously.

“Yes, but can I _really_ help you?”


	5. A Tall Silhouette V

“Sorry.” The man shook his head as he realized his odd statement. He lumbered past Manami as she held the door open, head hanging low. “Your hat just… surprised me.”

“I happen to like big hats.” She felt no reason to apologize for her unique fashion sense. She’d seen people in even stranger outfits around town, so did she really deserve to be singled out like that? “Are you _that_ surprised? I’m wearing one in my ad!”

“Fine, fine…” He slowed to a stop, his back still turned to her.

“Anyway, I’m Manami Hayase, paranormal investigator. But you probably already knew that.” She headed towards her desk, beckoning the man to follow.

“Call me… Torres.” With that lackluster remark, he took a seat.

“Torres. All right. Nice to meet you, Torres.” Manami merely nodded, since she was less than enthusiastic about shaking hands with strangers.

Torres seemed like the type to speak only if spoken to, so Manami had time to set up. Sitting in her black leather office chair, she opened her laptop and turned on her tablet to get started. Without letting Torres know, she turned on an audio recording program so there was a clear record of everything said. She was still skeptical of his motives, after all.

Holding her tablet, she looked over to the man. He seemed to be staring off into nothing, so she attempted to bring him back to task. “So what have you got for me?”

Torres rubbed his eyebrow as he tried to gather his thoughts. His gaze flitted around briefly before grabbing a pen for no other reason than to nervously tap it against his armrest. He hoped anything he was about to ask made sense.

“What can you t-tell me about… what about invincible p-people?”

“Nothing yet. That’s too vague.” Manami blinked, trying to figure out what he was trying to ask. “But go ahead with what you were saying.”

“B-but I ask-”

“I know.” Manami calmly interrupted, her open palm facing him. “I just need more details.”

“Okay…” Torres sighed and leaned back more in his seat just to get more comfortable. Spreading his knees further apart, he nestled his hands in his pocket again. The chair was honestly too small for him and dug into his sides, but he was used to such things in everyday life. “I saw someone g-get into an accident the other day, and… he was fine afterwards. Unharmed!”

“Uh-huh…” Manami nodded, looking to her tablet again and bringing up a game of Angry Birds. Clearly this would take a while to get the right details out of him, so she might as well enjoy herself in the meantime. Good thing she was able to make it seem like she was taking relevant notes with her stylus. She could tell Torres was leaving something important out of the discussion for sure. “Stiiiiill vague, I’m afraid.”

Torres lingered for a minute, looking around the room. Adjacent to the door at his left was a full-body mirror, and to his right was a wooden-framed bookcase stacked with all sorts of mysterious objects. He recognized an alien skull on a maroon velvet pillow and a framed photo of Bigfoot from the famed Patterson-Gimlin film, but he didn’t know what the rest even were- they just looked like weird sculptures or other trinkets to him. It didn’t help that there were completely mundane things nestled in with them, like a digital clock or a potted Venus flytrap.

Manami was in front of him, but his hazel eyes drifted to what lay behind her. Two wooden bookcases took up most of the wall, the shorter one packed with rows of literature. He figured most of it related to unexplained mysteries and such. The other had sides and doors made of glass, inside and atop it many other books and unusual artifacts; a large mechanical device centered on it was what caught his eye the most. Hanging higher above those were many framed certificates, diplomas, maps, and photographs.

Sweat gathered on his brow again as he realized he was stalling, not to mention idly tapping his pen the whole time. He wondered how long his silence had lasted, but was relieved to see Manami still working on her notes from before. Surely, it was only briefly that he’d been lost in thought. He sighed rather loudly before finally speaking up. “Can I trust that you’re as confidential as your ad says?”

“Sure I am! Just ask Joanna Taylor. She called because she thought she had a problem with poltergeists, but she cancelled her investigation because it turned out to just be squirrels in her attic.” She laughed wistfully, holding her hand to her cheek. “Can you imagine?”

Torres’ jaw dropped, his grip tightening on his pen. He stared at Manami in disbelief with widening eyes. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, featuring his anger with a suitable redness.

“Whoops!” Manami realized her error too, covering her mouth and pulling her tablet to her chest. It was a major violation of client privacy that she’d so casually blurted out. She couldn’t think of a good way to write it off, so what else could she say?

“Pretend I didn’t just say that?”


	6. A Tall Silhouette VI

“What the _hell?_ ” Torres dug his hands into the armrests. Manami’s slip-up really got him mad, and he wasn’t easily going to let that slide. He balled his fists tightly, enough for his pen to slip from his fingers. “C-confidential? Wh-what was _that?_ ”

Manami recoiled, heart pounding as she watched the large man lose his temper. Would she have to defend herself? Or maybe just ask him to leave?

Nah, screw that. Something about his anger didn’t seem all that dangerous anyway.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to this.” Gathering her composure, she stood her ground in spite of her gaffe. There was a bit of a lump in her throat due to shock, but it was nothing she couldn’t struggle through. “Besides, I don’t know if you know my reputation, but even if I told everyone that you visited me to tell me that invincible people were real, do you _really_ think they would believe me?”

Blinking, Torres raised his index finger as if to make a rebuttal. That, of course, assumed he had anything to say. It was like he was trying to speak, but the best he could muster was a defeated scoff. His hand gently lowered and his eyes drifted to the desk again. His anger was conquered in no time flat.

It was a good thing that worked, too, because he set her heart fluttering. Did she need to have her pepper spray ready again?

“That reminds me.” Manami said, sliding back and rummaging in a drawer to her left. She handed him a dusty clipboard holding several wrinkled paper forms. He was to fill out fairly standard personal and contact information, as well as sign for a few legal agreements. “Fill this out, please.”

He looked at the papers and nodded slowly in recognition, soon looking back and forth to locate his lost pen. This could take a while. As he repositioned himself to improve his search, he finally felt motivated to speak again. “I’m talking about my boyfriend Rubin. He accidentally rode his bike off a cliff.”

It happened before she could catch it, but it sounded so farfetched that she let out a quiet snicker. Realizing the impropriety of it, she quickly held her hands over her mouth. She felt like a deer in the headlights. How could she screw up like that? _Again?_

“Oh, come on!!!” Torres snarled and slammed his hands on his armrests. He was losing his patience with her, but this time he was clearly just irritated. It was telling that the former redness in his face hadn’t returned yet.

With that in mind, Manami saw no immediate danger. She sooner expected him to storm out of the room rather than react violently, so she was able to reply as calmly and casually as before.

“No offense- it was the way you said it!” She put her tablet on her desk and shut off the screen. If she was going to make this worth her time, she had to focus on dragging the whole story out of him. “Please continue. I want to hear the rest.”

“W-well…” Torres sunk back into his chair and looked away, blushing and sweating as he tried to stow his emotions away. He felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster, and he hated that. He almost wanted to go home and hide. But really, he was there to get the answers Rubin refused to face. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “He was f-fine! Not a mark on him!”

“Not unusual.” Manami leaned on her right armrest. “People often walk away from danger unscathed.”

“B-but that’s not the first time it’s happened. Or st-stuff like it, anyway…” Almost like a diversion, Torres resumed looking for the missing pen. Where was the damn thing? In any case, his eyes were focused anywhere but on Manami. “Sorry, this probably sounds lame.”

Manami stroked her chin. His story was actually starting to get better. “No, no… if there’s more, please tell me.”

“Well, I don’t think he really gets hurt. Or at least he doesn’t show it unless someone else mentions it.” Giving up on his search, he reached for an identical pen over by the lava lamp.

“Really?” Manami stared ahead, much like Torres was prone to doing. Suddenly there were logistics to think about. “Like if he stubs his toe, he’ll only react if you mention it to him?”

“Yeah! I’ve also never seen him get sick or drunk… or high…” He was glad she understood him right off the bat, Torres carefully counted on his fingers as he moved down his list. “No scrapes, cuts, or bruises neither since I’ve known him. Being too hot, cold, or tired don’t look like it affects him. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve really seen him sleep!”

“I agree those things are unusual, but a lot of it sounds like he just has extraordinary luck. You two should be going to Vegas, not to me!” Manami sounded fairly lighthearted about the whole thing, despite its importance to Torres- and her business, for that matter. Even if this odd state of affairs was nothing but beneficial (and thus nothing to worry about), it was still interesting.

Torres crossed his arms and looked away. His clear discomfort was a stark contrast to Manami’s attempt at humor.

“Then tell me…” Torres fidgeted in his seat. “Can you really call it luck if it’s what he wants to happen?”


	7. A Tall Silhouette VII

“Maybe…? What do you mean by that?” She felt like that question was necessary with him a lot of the time, but first she had to determine if repeating herself would annoy him rather than help. The last thing she wanted was to irritate her first serious client enough for him to leave. However, something told her his prior reaction to her meant he would stay around to finish whatever he wanted to say.

“Uhh… Well… it’s like his hair and beard only grow when he wants them to.” He mainly meant the latter, recalling several times where Rubin suddenly sported new facial hair to match certain outfits. Otherwise, it was rare for Rubin to shave out of necessity. “He also says he takes medication, but I don’t think he really does.”

Good _heavens,_ that was vague. Was he trying to hide something? Cuz it sure looked that way. She felt like she was prying into his personal business, but at that point she felt it necessary to do so. In any event, repeating her standby question seemed to work just fine. “Why would that matter?”

“It has a visible effect.” Torres chewed on his pen nervously.

“How so?”

“Testosterone…”

“Hormones?” Manami raised her eyebrow.

She knew several reasons why a man might take testosterone, but why in this case was it important enough to mention? Especially if, from how it sounded, it could change his looks?

“Yep.” Tapping his pen again, Torres looked at the desk. There were a lot of interesting things on it, but now wasn’t the time to ask what they were. He was on a mission. “But he’d need to see a doctor for a prescription like that. At least for the reason he needs it. Problem is, he hates doctors. Has since he was a kid. Too many bad experiences, I guess.”

“Could he be getting it illegally?” Manami watched Torres’ odd habit of touching his eyebrows, but dismissed it. She guessed it was some kind of nervous habit, which matched his general attitude that night.

Torres tilted his head, looking pensive. “I’ve thought about that, but then he tells me inaccurate and inconsistent stuff about it. He really does that with any medicine, even the basics like painkillers. Any time he talks about healthcare and hospital stuff, he’s a little off.”

“Hmm… makes sense.” Manami nodded, holding her hand to her chin. These new details proved more about Rubin’s heightened resilience to drugs as was previously mentioned, but the remark about hair growth left her stumped. She guessed Torres was some sort of medical professional based on his clothes, and it must have been the reason he was noticing some of these trends.

Since he was given more time to speak, Torres expounded on his previous points. He shared many examples of when Rubin roused his suspicions, emphasizing these with gestures roughly corresponding to what happened. His speech patterns became more obvious the longer he talked, proving how often Torres stammered, repeated himself, or paused to recall the right word. His words were often out of order, sometimes even leaving out important ones that completed a sentence. His eyes hung low, leaving it entirely unclear what he was looking at.

Finding his stories difficult to follow, Manami had already drifted deep into thought. Swiping through apps on her tablet, she definitely looked hard at work. Occasionally she gave simple responses to make it seem like she was listening, but she was definitely focused on other things. Mainly, she was drawing from an earlier notion.

Then it was like a switch turned on in her mind, her eyes springing open as if to signal it.

“Wait!” She interrupted him just as he was about to ask her opinion. Standing from her seat, Manami held her hand to Torres. “I get it now!”

“Y-you do?” Torres was taken aback.

“Yes!” Manami held her hands together in delight.

“Great!” He smiled for the first time since setting foot in her office. “So you can-”

Manami cut him off. “I know why I recognize you!”

Sweat trickled down Torres’ cheek.

“…H-help me?”


	8. A Tall Silhouette VIII

“You used to date Naomi, right? Naomi Takeda?” Holding her chin, she held her other hand to Torres and gazed in fascination. It thrilled her when all the pieces of the proverbial puzzle fell together like that. “But then you two broke up when you turned gay. Right?”

There were so many things wrong with that remark that Torres couldn’t figure out how to correct her. Instead he slumped back in his chair in defeat, rubbing his eyebrow like he was relieving a headache. He clearly looked frustrated. “Yep, that’s me…”

“Hah! I knew it! Such a small world.” She settled back into her seat. She and Naomi met back in college and became fairly close friends, but since the latter graduated they had drifted apart. At that point Manami had to deal with graduate school and her own solitary nature dissolving most friendships she made as an undergrad. She realized that the breakup between Torres and Naomi was probably among the last things she’d heard from the two. “How is she? I haven’t heard from her in years.”

Torres looked sheepish. “We don’t ta-”

“Hold on, you two probably don’t talk anymore. I know it’d be hard for me to talk to my ex.” Manami interrupted him, nodding as she realized the implications. If Torres was dealing with an ex from hell, the last thing she wanted was to dredge up bitter feelings.

That was her assumption, anyway. She didn’t have any exes to speak of, so there was no common ground between them in this case. Hopefully she made it sound convincing, though.

Thankfully, Torres soon proved he wanted the topic to change. Growing visibly uncomfortable, his eyes darted anywhere but towards Manami. Remembering he still had paperwork to finish, he made a welcome detour in retrieving the brown clipboard that lay beside him on the plum-colored carpet.

“I’ll be honest. Your case sounds iffy to me.” Manami leaned on the desk, lacing her fingers as she delivered her verdict. She noticed Torres nod slowly, but she wasn’t sure if that meant he was listening. He seemed like a one-track mind kind of guy. “Don’t get me wrong- I’ll definitely take it, since you’ve clearly put so much thought into it. I just feel like a lot is open to interpretation.”

She paused until she saw Torres look up from his clipboard, assuming it meant he would respond to her. “I have a few tests in mi-”

“What? No, he’d _hate_ that!” This time Torres was the one to cut Manami off.

“Oh. Right. Doctors.” Manami felt unnerved by his reaction, but she quickly understood the reason behind it. She made sure to note that on her tablet, since it would definitely determine her next course of action. Because of that, this might be tougher than she expected. “Is Rubin aware of your concerns yet?”

Torres looked away and crossed his hands on the back of the clipboard, hugging it to his belly. “Not really…”

“Hmm.” Manami tapped her chin and looked at her notes, which were pitifully scarce. She cursed herself by getting sidetracked not once, but twice. She hoped that everything she remembered was vital to the judgment she was about to make. “That leaves us with two options. One, we can get him to agree to testing. Or else…”

She briefly held her hand to her mouth, so consumed in thought that she didn’t realize Torres intently waiting for her answer. “Well, he doesn’t _need_ to know what we’re doing…”

Torres had his hand firmly on his forehead, weighing down his heavy brow even more. His head hung lower as he leaned forward in his seat. ““That second one… sounds… shady…”

“Then talk to him about it.” Torres’ indecision was bothering her, so she decided to be frank. She waved her hand to stress the point. “Be honest. Tell him you’re worried, and why. If he’s really the way you say he is, then I’m not going to hurt him.”

Retrieving one of her cards, she wrote something on it before handing it to Torres. “Here’s my card and a price estimate. Call when you’re ready to meet. Make sure Rubin is there.”

Torres looked at the card, his hand quivering. There was so much to take in that he felt it necessary to go easy on himself. “C-can I text instead?”

“I suppose?” Manami tilted her head slightly. She knew how reliant some people were on texting, but the idea still came across as risky- there was more of a chance of Rubin finding out if it were there in writing. She didn’t want to deter him just as she was getting somewhere, though. “Anyway, please contact me if you have any more information; anything you forgot about while you were here tonight, especially if it’s important. Anything will help. Just so I know what to expect.”

“Right… We’ll see how this g-goes. I’ll b-bring it up to him s-somehow…” He cleared his throat, looking to Manami for reassurance.

She offered a mild grin in complete, anticipatory silence.

Somehow, that wasn’t helping.

Torres’ gaze crept towards the woman. “Suggestions would be great right about now.”


	9. A Tall Silhouette IX

One hand in his pocket and the other on the banister, Torres slowly headed down the stairs. He looked back at Manami with a silent plea, as though she was sending him off on the hardest journey of his life. He wished that Rubin was the one to have visited her and done all the talking, but now they were apparently scheming behind his back instead. No doubt, this would weigh on Torres’ mind for a while.

Manami waved and retreated into her office, shutting the door behind her. She wobbled towards the window and slumped on the sofa, head leaning against the window. Seeing Torres bumble down the sidewalk to the south, she heaved a sigh against the glass pane.

“Now I’ve done it…” She was talking to herself in her native language again, showing her strong feelings towards the meeting. Making it even clearer, she flung out her hand rather dramatically. “I’ve totally _scared off_ my first real client!!!”

All without a security deposit too. She could kick herself for that. Then again, she was probably being pessimistic again. She was sure that Torres left on good terms, which was amazing considering her repeated blunders against him. Maybe that was why his first outburst was the only one that really shocked her- he was too serious about his greater goal to let hurt feelings get in his way.

She looked to her desk and saw the paperwork Torres apparently had filled out, which was good because it meant she had his phone number. If he took a while getting back to her, she could contact him instead. Given his apparent shyness, Torres could probably use that kind of nudge in the right direction anyway.

First things first. The case really interested her, and from the sounds of it Rubin’s capabilities were worth a look. Where could she start, though? He clearly had remarkable resistance to pain, drugs, and sickness; it made sense for him to be ignorant of their effects if he’d never experienced them in the first place. Additionally, he sounded like a fast healer with incredible stamina. However, what were the odds of him having all these characteristics at once? In that case, her earlier mention of extraordinary luck was no mere joke.

Manami recalled a technique called biofeedback that may be relevant in this case. For example, there were monks who through meditation developed heightened control over their bodily processes. Could this also be true of Rubin? She knew almost nothing about him, so he could very well be some disciplined, athletic person who stumbled upon the secret of advanced biofeedback.

At least it was a good starting point. This explanation matched almost everything Torres described about Rubin, even the comment about hair growth, yet she was still looking beyond that. From what she remembered, studies about biofeedback produced much more mundane results than what sounded possible of Rubin. Therefore, this definitely seemed fitting for a paranormal researcher such as herself.

She felt safe holding onto some lingering doubts, just in case. This entire situation assumed Torres was correct in his observations and not exaggerating, and he could be pranking her as did so many others before him. Ultimately, she would have to wait and meet Rubin to make her own assessment. Instead of letting it discourage her, Manami simply viewed it as another means to prepare herself.

“Whatever this is, it looks like I have a long night of research ahead of me.” She donned another vague smile, rubbing her chin and gazing off in wonderment. Right now, she couldn’t decide if she should look into other explanations for Rubin’s abilities or cut right to tests she could covertly run on him.

Then, defying her own expectations once again (and in record time, too), Manami was asleep on the sofa within fifteen minutes.

Her earlier tiredness must have caught up with her, or perhaps it was hastened by her excitement. Who knew? Regardless, there was little progress made that night. The only saving grace was that she left the lights on, so her window shining through the night might make it appear like she was hard at work.

What others didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?


	10. Big Noise I

Friday nights were always bustling at the Stronghold. Its westward side facing the street was lined with rows of picture windows, one of which proudly displayed a rainbow flag. The window beside that was emblazoned with the venue’s name in white military-style font along with two neon signs to its right; the higher one was the business logo, and below it was a simple ‘open’ sign. The logo itself was the stylized upper bodies of two smiling men in warm pastels, the taller of whom held the shorter in the crook of his arm; it had two alternating frames, so that when the larger man’s arm pulled closer inward, a heart would appear beside them. Clearly a pun was in mind when creating this one. Multitude of flyers were placed inside and outside the glass, and further behind these were short army green curtains obscuring the lower halves of the windows.

Around the southwest corner was the main entrance, a short rectangular foyer with aluminum-framed glass doors on three of the four sides. The parking lot directly outside only had room for five cars, meaning everyone else needed to park along the street. In clear disregard for the limited space, a ramshackle motorcycle was parked on the diagonal-striped loading zone section beside the cars.

It was a straight shot from there to the bar, with many high tables between the two points. Upon entry, most first-time visitors would probably be drawn to the plentiful colors. Indeed, soft plastic cube-shaped LED lights in all colors of the rainbow were scattered about the place- some were static in color, some faded in and out, and some slowly cycled between these colors.

Several secluded booths were at the left of the entrance, and a pair of pool tables were in the right corner. The shelves behind the bar, which held an impressive liquor selection, were accented by clear acrylic pillars supporting the corners and soft cyan lights along the undersides. The counter itself curved around the corner to the right, continuing down a short hall towards the dance floor. There were several more tables along the way, though unlike those nearer the door, customers were meant to sit at these rather than stand.

Torres sat at one of these tables with three other men, one of them his boyfriend Rubin- though with him slumping forward and constantly looking at his phone screen, one could tell he was less than enthusiastic. He wore the same ratty blue jacket and well-worn tan sneakers as the other night, but this time with more casual attire- a charcoal heather grey graphic tee and lighter blue-grey jeans. He was still unshaven with messy hair, but that was common for Torres. At the very least, he didn’t look nearly as tired this time.

“Wow, everyone’s here tonight!” The man across the table from Torres looked around the packed room. He carried a serene professionalism about him, with short, curly walnut brown hair and chrome-framed glasses covering small sea green eyes. It was enough to draw attention from his brawny upper body, where his tricolored polo fit tightly- this was clearest at the horizontal white border across his chest, which separated the navy blue top portion from the maroon section below. He had a slightly bulging belly, but his muscular pecs and arms were much more obvious. His brow was broad, his jaw wide, and his nose somewhat bulbous. Though clean-shaven, his peach skin was tinted darker where his beard should be- such proclivity for hair growth was proven further by his exceedingly thick body hair. He used a manual wheelchair, wearing fingerless brown leather gloves with black rubber grips for more comfortable handling. He appeared to be the oldest of the group, with slight grey at the temples and a receding hairline exaggerating his already large forehead.

“They must have brought everyone _else_ , too!” Leaning forward with his furry arms crossed, the blond man to Torres’ right showed his usual snarky attitude. Contrasting the bespectacled man, his arm tattoos and his pierced right ear made him look rougher around the edges. His fluffy spikes of hair were sandy blond like his chinstrap beard, and his apricot complexion gave him a perpetually sunburnt look. He had beady cornflower blue eyes and a small nose, which were perhaps diminished by his chubby cheeks. He was slightly smaller than Torres in sheer size, but his upper body was burlier and gave way to a more prominent belly. The short-sleeved, untucked burgundy button-up shirt he wore was accompanied by grey chinos and blue-grey boat shoes. He was close in age to the man in glasses, yet his child-like facial features made it harder to tell.

“ _Yeeeahh_ , about that…” The man at Torres’ left looking over with mild concern. He was about a head shorter than Torres, and even though he was similarly plump, he lacked much of the same muscle tone. His skin was about the same shade as Torres’, albeit with warmer undertones and plenty of blotchy freckles. His pear-shaped face had a gentle quality, most often seen by his snub nose and round, warm grey eyes. His coarse mahogany hair was short on the sides, with a longer top forming tighter curls. His outfit was a seafoam tank top with horizontal ocean blue stripes, a pair of coral cargo shorts, and brown sandals. Hinged huggie earrings, as well as thick rings on his right thumb and left ring finger, were made of rainbow titanium; the textured surface of the material generally made it appear cool grey from a distance.

“Oh. Right.” The bespectacled man offered Torres a sympathetic look, tapping his hairy fingers on the tabletop. He knew what was happening- Torres was usually anxious around crowds, and his extended absence from The Stronghold was probably making it worse. The way he saw it, Torres would probably settle down better on a full stomach. “Why don’t we order?”

“On it!” The blond man’s blue eyes bolted open, his hand waving emphatically for a server. When it came to booze, he didn’t mess around. With the place being so crowded, his persistence would no doubt ease him through the inevitably long wait. Indeed, the wait staff seemed to be flitting everywhere except their table.

The man in glasses patted the blond man’s back, accustomed to such an eager response. The latter was known to cause a ruckus, so him being occupied like that meant the group could no doubt catch up in peace. “Looks like we’ve got time to kill.”

“Good thing we’ve got plenty of catching up to do!” The mahogany-haired man cracked a rather bewildered smile. “Heck, I feel like we should introduce ourselves!”


	11. Big Noise II

“Glad to see your sense of humor survived in one piece.” The bespectacled man, Dillon, smiled reassuringly at Rubin, Torres’ auburn-haired boyfriend. The bearded blond man in their midst was Dillon’s husband Lucas, perhaps explaining his unusually high tolerance for such unseemliness- and the wedding bands they both wore.

“I aim to please.” Rubin was flattered by Dillon’s remark, but thinking about explaining every single thing he and Torres had been through brought his hand to his cheek ponderously. “Anyway, we’re finally settled in the new apartment. Thank God! We couldn’t be out of that old place quickly enough!” Having dealt with unkempt grounds, troublesome neighbors, and an obstructive landlord at that building, it was a relief to leave it behind. The only redeeming part of it was the sentimental value of it being his and Torres’ first apartment together. If that still held any significance to Torres, he had yet to tell Rubin.

Then again, Torres wasn’t the best communicator. Could this be a clearer reason for the sullen mood?

“Good. Do I hear ‘housewarming party’?” Dillon probably already knew the answer- Rubin made no secret of his love for parties, and often looked for any excuse to host one.

“Hell yeah!” Rubin grinned emphatically. He wanted to talk about everything in detail, but also knew some things were better left a surprise. “We’re hosting it in our building’s party room. Not gonna lie, it’s awesome. There’s even a pool and home theatre!”

“Great!” Dillon flashed a thumbs-up. “We’ll await our invitation!”

“Yeah…” Rubin leaned forward, resting his face on his hand with a weary expression. “But it’s one more thing to worry about. Right now, I just want to sit back and relax.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” Dillon nodded with certainty, even though Rubin may well spend the rest of the night fussing about Torres. His loss, though.

“Oh, sure…” Lucas sneered, idly tugging at the placket of his shirt. The first few buttons were undone and showed off quite a bit of chest hair, though his wasn’t as dense as that of his husband. “All is well and good until _Bruno_ decides otherwise.”

Dillon wasn’t sure what to say about that. Bruno was only the head bartender. Sure, he was annoying, but why bring him up out of nowhere? “Excuse me?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t notice. Shit around here keeps changing exactly like he wants it to. I mean, look at our regular crowd. It’s completely different from when you and I were new here.” He referred to a gradual shift in the clientele. The Stronghold had a long history as a hangout for working-class gay men with a no-frills and judgment-free atmosphere, but since Bruno was hired he noticed vast changes. Lucas gestured towards the bar to highlight once such difference.

“…And ‘bigger’, if you get what I’m saying.” He was pointing out the throngs of shirtless, chunky men around them. Some were also thick and muscular, but most were outright flabby. It was well beyond the ‘dad bod’ phenomenon. Tattoos, piercings, and dyed hair were likewise growing in popularity.

Dillon raised his eyebrows at the hypocrisy, his face showing stern disapproval. Was Lucas really judging people who looked similar to himself, not to mention his friends who frequented the place? “How’s that a bad thing? It means that guys like us fit in better.”

Rubin was similarly surprised, but he assumed Lucas was joking. In all honest, Lucas always sounded so cynical that it was hard to tell if he was being serious. “Seriously, Torres wouldn’t set foot in this place if all the guys all looked like Ken dolls.”

Lucas rolled his eyes at the other two completely misinterpreting what he said. Yes, he knew he was fat (and had no problem with such a body type), but he also knew about Bruno’s preference for such men. Why wouldn’t Bruno want to be surrounded by more men that were attractive to him? It said a few things about the bartender’s influence. Truthfully, that didn’t worry him as much as the judgmental gossip he kept hearing around the place. He almost wanted to clarify, but it was no use- at that point, Rubin and Dillon weren’t going to let up on him anyway. “I’m just saying, this place has changed before because of him, and I’m sure it’ll keep changing exactly how he wants it.”

“Hmm…” Dillon rubbed his chin pensively, but it was mostly for show. He was humoring his husband for his paranoid nonsense, as Dillon knew Bruno had nothing against them. “I have a better idea! We should prepare for our next few shark attacks and alien abductions instead. That might help us more in the long run!”


	12. Big Noise III

“My point is, if he wanted us gone…” Lucas finished that thought by flicking his thumb over his shoulder. Really, to him it seemed Bruno had a lot more clout than he should.

“Nope. Won’t happen. Nice try, though.” Dillon put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder. He knew his husband had a nasty habit of flinging accusations towards people he didn’t like, especially when there was plausibility behind it. Then, as was common that night, he diverted the discussion to Rubin. “So what are you boys doing for Fringe Fest?”

Fringe Fest was a days-long local celebration showcasing new ideas in realms real, imagined, and everywhere in-between. Less-accepted scientific discoveries or advances were publicized, paranormal news was given many opportunities for discussion, and speculative fiction was featured for all its adoring fans. It was one reason why Manami stayed in the Twin Cities area after all these years.

“Good question…” Rubin drummed his fingertips on his plushy cheek. Rubin was vexed by the origin of the festival, which was supposedly due to a riot where magical and supernatural beings were involved. That, however, was nothing more than an urban myth. “To be honest, I’m never sure how to feel about it. It’s a really weird thing to celebrate. I mean, I heard that people _died_ …”

Lucas made a pushing motion at Rubin, like he was brushing off the latter’s worries. “Come on, you know the point is to make fun of paranormal bullsh-”

Dillon stopped Lucas from further antagonism. “ _Actually_ , it’s supposed to be a time to contemplate all the things in this world that we can’t explain yet, or things we may never explain.”

“I thought it was just an excuse to dress up outside of Halloween.” Rubin chuckled at the pair voicing their wildly differing opinions. It was expected that attendees dress up as some mythical figure, though many chose to dress in popular Halloween costumes for the ease of it. There was something to be said for creativity in that case.

“Whatever, I’m just looking forward to the booze.” Lucas crossed his arms and leaned back. There were indeed many inventive drinks concocted for the celebration, usually with a sci-fi or fantasy spin. “Now where is that goddamn waiter?”

Rubin ran his fingers through his own curly hair. “I guess he and I can talk about it later. Kind of short notice for costumes and stuff, but we can try.”

“I’m sure he’d love it.” Dillon nodded his head towards Torres, trying to shine some positivity his way. Torres was quite fond of roleplay, so costumes were surely close enough to raise his spirits.

“Nah.” Lucas squished the indigo cube light from their table in his hand. “He’s so butthurt right now that he’ll probably spend the rest of the year pouting at home.”

And thus Lucas went and ruined it all.

Torres looked up from behind his forearm resentfully. Why was he suddenly such a popular topic?

Lucas smiled cruelly in response to the glare. “Ten bucks says he gets a head start now!”

“Quit it! He doesn’t need you picking on him.” Rubin crossed his arms, sinking back in his chair. “Nobody does!”

“Hey, I work with what you give me.” Lucas leaned forward tauntingly, his expression best described as ‘punchable’. “Not my fault if you can’t appreciate my humor!”

Dear God, Lucas was in a _rare_ mood. Lucas was probably excited to have Rubin and Torres back at the Stronghold, but this was a strange way of showing it. Now really wasn’t the time for him to go overboard like that. It seemed to Dillon like anything else he said would fuel Lucas’ harassment, and he needed to think outside the box.

Disgusted at Lucas’ insolence, Rubin threw his hands up. “ _Just shut the hell up!_ ”

Lucas erupted into cruel laughter, but he had little time for such thrills. His mouth was gagged before he knew it, and all he could muster in return was an obstructed cough and a confused grunt. There was a sweet taste and spongy texture on his tongue, while his fingertips wiped away what looked like chocolate frosting from the strange object. The look on his face made his feelings clear as he glanced around the table. What was going on?

Dillon had silenced Lucas with a snack cake, which he had fetched from the tote bag on the back of his wheelchair. He was surprised that he could pull off that trick without anyone noticing, but the results were priceless. Hearing a few scattered laughs in the immediate area, Dillon was sure someone had taken a photo of Lucas’ bewildered face by then.

Dillon put his hand on Lucas and Rubin’s shoulders, sparing a look at both. “Now where were we?”


	13. Big Noise IV

“ _Hey, assholes!!!_ ” A deep voice boomed from several feet away. Strangely, the obtuse greeting sounded friendly rather than irate.  
  
Lucas, having tacitly accepted the snack cake stuffed in his mouth, hung his head back in frustration. He mumbled a few indeterminate sounds, but one could easily tell it didn’t need to be repeated. Lucas accepted his punishment, but he was showing dangerous levels of attitude for a different reason.  
  
Dillon, though recognizing the voice, looked over his shoulder. With a subtle smirk, he rubbed his husband’s upper back. “Be nice.”  
  
Their server that evening was Bruno, whom they seemed to have summoned with Lucas’ accusations. Perhaps he was lurking in the shadows all along, waiting to pounce at the soonest mention of his name.  
  
Though to be fair, hiding was almost impossible for him to do- his being somewhere around seven feet tall and four hundred pounds made him stand out in any crowd. Yes, Bruno was gigantic, even in a room full of otherwise big guys.  
  
Bruno’s weight looked to be packed solid on him, with his muscular bulk smoothed over by body fat. His legs were comparable to tree trunks, and his feet were so massive as to leave one guessing where he could find shoes. He sported heavy stubble and rivaled Lucas where chest and arm hair were concerned. His short, wavy golden brown hair receded slightly at the hairline, and it was currently covered by a weathered battleship grey newsboy cap. His reddish-beige skin had a weathered texture, and a large scar ran diagonal between his right eye and high-set nose. His craggy face was structured by a huge brow and jaw, the latter forming mild underbite. His teeth were atrociously crooked, with several absent and others often protruding even when his large mouth was closed. Set below large eyebrows a step away from forming a unibrow, his small eyes were tinted a greener version of his hair color. His fleshy, protruding ears were decked with a pair of circular silver barbell earrings.  
  
“How are my favorite homos today?” Bruno gazed down at the table of four. He had an air of dynamic levity about him that surprised most onlookers, but it suited his image well- he was larger than life by every standard. Perhaps for that reason alone, he was a very polarizing person- people either loved him or hated him.  
  
Lucas shook his head at the newcomer and, with careful maneuvering of his mouth, swallowed the cake whole. He was sure he’d regret it later as he forced it down his throat, but he had to tell off that bastard Bruno somehow, right?  
  
Except that Dillon soon forced his hand over Lucas’ mouth, shoving in another snack cake. Where the hell was he getting those things? Lucas’ face flushed red, but he could take a hint- someone clearly didn’t want him to speak. Or maybe Dillon’s goal was to put Lucas into a sugar coma by the end of the night. Either way, Lucas’ resignation was clear as he slid down in his seat.  
  
Dillon forced a happier look onto his face as he retreated from his husband. “Great! We were just talking about Fringe Fest. How are you, Bruno?”  
  
“Same ol’, same ol’.” Bruno shrugged indifferently, his huge hands lazily grasping his apron strings. The only garment common to the Stronghold’s staff was a navy blue waist apron with the logo embroidered in white in the lower right corner, but otherwise the dress code was fairly lax. Bruno was dressed a step above his street clothes for the night, but he obviously faced a dilemma common for big men- nothing fit! His slate grey chinos looked almost skin-tight, while his striped dull turquoise v-neck tee kept riding up on his sizeable love handles and baring a sliver of belly skin. Likewise, his grey vest was short enough to show the ends of the cobalt suspenders flanking his pudgy paunch. His pale grey sneakers had seen better days too. “So what can I do you for?”  
  
The dismissive answer was one thing, but one detail bothered Dillon more- Bruno wasn’t holding a notepad or anything similar to write down their order. Bruno claimed he could remember whichever orders he was given, but Dillon was sure it was because Bruno liked to change orders to his own liking.  
  
Regardless, Dillon had given Bruno enough disapproving looks for one night. “I’ll have-”  
  
“Whoa, hold on down there, Dildo.” Bruno tapped his ear and winked, suggesting he had trouble hearing him. It made sense, considering the height difference between them and the sheer numbers of people around. But was the cringe-worthy nickname necessary? That said, his next step crossed yet another line. With a few grunts and groans, he knelt rested his lower belly on the table for support.  
  
Sighing in relief, Bruno rested his hand on his mound of a gut. “All right, what’ll it be?”  
  
How about that? It turned out Dillon could spare one more disdainful look at Bruno. Green eyes widening, he stared blankly at the rolls of flesh beside him. Sure, there were already scores of half-naked fat guys around them, but they weren’t actively invading anyone’s space like that. He was sure Bruno was purposely pushing their buttons at that point.  
  
“How about some basic decency?” Dillon crossed his arms nonchalantly. “Or is that extra?”


	14. Big Noise V

The group placed their orders without much pushback from Bruno at first, mainly because their requests were brief and to the point. Bruno tried interjecting, but there was little material for him to work with. It helped that Dillon and Rubin were the only ones ordering, speaking on behalf of their respective partners who were either unwilling or unable to do so.

“Sounds good.” Bruno gave a slow nod and looked around the table. He noticed Lucas had finally choked down his snack cake, which meant the bearded blond would probably unleash everything he was holding back. “So that’s four Sweet Lullabies and nonstop ‘ha-la-pee-no’ poppers for Booboo over there, right?”

The last remark, complete with humiliating nickname, was aimed at Torres. Torres remained unamused.

Dillon shook his head. “Nope.”

Rubin twirled his hair. “Not even close.”

Lucas merely scoffed. What other response did he have for that troll?

Not only did Bruno do as expected by changing the order to whatever he wanted to make, but he threw in an atrocious Spanish pronunciation too- probably just for a cheap laugh.

“Geez! Come on, guys.” Bruno crossed his for arms and frowned. “It’s called advertising!”

“Do tell.” Dillon raised an eyebrow skeptically. He wasn’t sure if Bruno was making up his own definitions again or if he was just genuinely that ignorant.

Bruno had no logical explanation, so he chose to make a different appeal.

“...Pleeease?” Bruno gazed at Dillon, his eyes glimmering like those of a begging puppy. “I’ve just wanted to try a few old drink ideas lately.”

Dillon pensively tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I get that, but your drinks are kind of…”

What were the right words to describe them? Bruno’s original recipes weren’t bad by any means, but he used such strange ingredients and methods in an attempt to be creative that the results were unpredictable; nausea being the most common side effect.

“Unconventional.” Dillon squeezed Bruno’s shoulder affectionately. “They’re an acquired taste, that’s all.”

“Well, you clods have known me long enough to ‘acquire’ it.” Bruno frowned as Dillon dug for his kindest excuses.

“What’s a Sweet Lullaby again? Is that the one that tastes like chocolate cake batter?” Lucas scratched his head. If that was the drink he had in mind, Lucas remembered feeling like he was ready to hibernate before finishing it- that is, if he remembered anything at all after a few sips. It was _that_ strong.

“Sure is.” Bruno nodded with a smirk. The Sweet Lullaby was notorious for its thickness and potency- on drinking it, one would feel heavily drunk and unbearably full soon thereafter. Bruno wasn’t sure how he’d stumbled on the right mixture for that, but he thought it made for fun times.

But why was Lucas so curious? It looked like a wide-open selling point for Bruno, which meant some schmoozing was in order- with his own personal touch, of course.

“Why? You miss it, Grüber?” Flopping his arm over his blond friend’s shoulder, Bruno played with Lucas’ small nose and round belly. In Bruno’s eyes, poking fun at Lucas’ Germanic background was the icing on the cake.

Lucas swatted at Bruno’s hands invading his personal space, but anyone could tell he wasn’t fighting back very hard.

The pair’s escapades were amusing, but Dillon knew they didn’t have time to watch them fight it out. Folding his hairy fingers around the collar of Bruno’s vest, he hoped to grab the man’s attention just as he did the garment. “Sorry, but I came here to relax- not to pass out.”

Bruno frowned a bit as he wiped his perspiring brow, but he had an offer in mind. “How about if it’s on the house?”

“Deal!” With his forehead gleaming with sweat and a familiar rosiness in his soft cheeks, Lucas swatted Bruno’s back. As usual, the larger man didn’t even flinch. “Now get out of here already!”

“Knew you’d see it my way.” With some effort, Bruno grabbed the lip of the table and hoisted himself to stand. He let out a condescending chuckle with a face to match. “See you in a few, boys!”

Lucas watched as the massive man lumbered away. “Yeah, maybe a few _hours_ …”

“Explain, please?” Dillon was surprised, gazing at Bruno in like manner. Lucas more than likely agreed to the deal just to get rid of Bruno, but it was still surprising. Dillon though Lucas was craftier than that. Then again, he knew his husband’s animosity towards their server was almost always just for show. “I thought you didn’t like him always getting his way.”

Lucas shrugged listlessly, leaning back into his previously comfortable position. “What can I say? I can handle a little tyranny if it means free booze.”


	15. Big Noise VI

After Bruno left, it was clear the group’s surge of excitement was on a downward slope. The epic beat of the music pulsed around them, but the four remained quiet. For some time, it seemed like nobody had anything to say. Perhaps their various feelings towards one another had expended their emotional energy, and Bruno’s presence only made it worse.

With their ensuing wait for drinks, Dillon repeatedly gazed upon Torres with concern. Their prior wait for a server set a poor tone for the rest of the night, so he truly wondered if Torres would glean any sort of enjoyment out of that night. “He’s really out of it tonight, isn’t he?”

Rubin cringed at the question, knowing it was a can of worms. Their discussion had already veered in that direction once, and he didn’t really want to go back until Torres was somehow placated. Where he would normally lend Torres a comforting pat on the shoulder or back, he sensed Torres’ mood was so low that he left his hands off. “It’ll be fine.”

In no time, Lucas once again rose from his seat and proved his disregard for Torres’ feelings. “Maybe he should get over himself and have some fun!”

Dillon bolted a condemning look at his husband as fast as he could. Here he thought Lucas had exhausted his wild spirit, but clearly that wouldn’t be the case. Spying Rubin getting up out the corner of his eye, Dillon reflexively put his arms between him and Lucas to prevent another confrontation.

Rubin didn’t want to get violent, but feeling Dillon’s hand on his chest sure felt provoking. Lucas probably felt otherwise, judging by the look on his face. Funny how trying to stop them from fighting made it that much more likely. “I _know_ you didn’t-“

“Quit talking about me, guys!” Torres’ arms unfolded slightly before him, almost like he was ready to hoist himself on the table if necessary.

As ready as Rubin was to tear into Lucas, he was quickly stifled. The surprise on his face was clear, and his priority shifted to his boyfriend in a heartbeat. The once-tight ball of his fist unfurled into a gentle hand against Torres’ shoulder. “Babe, I was trying to-“

“ _Quiiit iiit_ …” Torres rubbed his eyes, crossing the opposite forearm in front of his face. It was another attempt to block himself from the outside world.

Rubin may have been hasty, but that dismissal didn’t deter him. Torres was clearly going to respond now, so Rubin felt it imperative to figure things out. Only later would he seek forgiveness. His expression grew dour as he set his hands on his hips. “We need to talk.”

Torres gazed up with caution, dreading that Rubin was going to try humiliating him with a public admonition.

Taking the hint, Dillon grabbed his husband’s wrist and ushered him away from the table. He nudged his head towards a few of their other friends mingling near the entrance. “Lucas! Let’s go… over there!”

Given his husband’s position, Lucas slid off his seat without much resistance despite his confusion. He looked forward to hearing (and contributing to) Rubin and Torres’ argument. “B-but… drinks?”

While Lucas’ argument was elegant and captivating, Dillon had to decline. “We’ll be brief. Let’s go say hi to Neal and Omar!”

Lucas scratched his beard, puzzled at Dillon’s suggestion as he was led to the other pair. “ _Again_ …?”

When Lucas and Dillon were out of earshot, Rubin took on a slightly kinder mien. He returned his hand to Torres and massaged in a wider circle on his back, hoping the tightness he felt would melt away. Rubin continued the discussion in Spanish not only so Torres would be more comfortable, but to discourage eavesdroppers as well. “If the crowd is too much for you, we could leave. I wanted us to unwind, but now you’ve got me worried.”

Torres wrapped his pudgy fingers around Rubin’s free hand, his eyes averting Rubin’s. “It’s fine. You go have fun.”

Rubin appreciated the affection, but he also knew it was another of Torres’ tactics to shut him up. He had to stay focused. “My love, I’m happy if you’re happy. Tell me, what’s going on?”

Torres idly drummed their interlaced hands against the tabletop. “Meh…”

“Are you still stressing out about the move? Or has work been rough? Are you mad at someone?” Rubin tried being thorough with the possibilities, but Torres wasn’t about to budge. He could usually get Torres to open up if something weighed on his mind, but this might have been something he was uncomfortable talking about. “Are you mad at me?”

Torres replied not in words, but with an inexplicit shrug of his shoulders.

Rubin leaned back and sighed. He was running out of ways to get answers, and it looked easier to wait until they got home. Rubin would have to set aside his persisting concerns and leave Torres in his own little corner.

That was until a rather unorthodox question came to Rubin’s mind.

“Oh, I get it now.” Rubin rubbed his chin in faux contemplation. “You’re tired. You were up too late hunting for aliens and vampires, weren’t you?”

Torres paused for uncomfortable long, though hopefully not enough to show that his secret was exposed. What did Rubin know about the visit to Manami’s office? How did he find out? No doubt Torres had to explain a lot more than he was willing to. Where would he even start? It was exhausting and overwhelming just thinking about it.

Despite that, he managed to force out an uneasy chuckle.

“What can I say?” He patted their clasped hands consolingly. Rubin expected as much from using humor, even if it meant his boyfriend would take things a little less seriously. “My imagination goes wild when you keep me guessing.”


	16. Big Noise VII

“I _tooooold_ you…” Torres loosened his grip and cautiously moved his gaze to Rubin. Everything about his tone and body language emphasized that he wanted the discussion to end. “I’m fine. Leave me alone and go have fun.”

Torres was on guard- Rubin could tell. The bar was too crowded for him to make the setting comfortable, and despite carrying on in Spanish there were probably still curious onlookers- he swore he spotted an older Hispanic couple exchanging uncomfortable looks when passing by.

Now he had to wonder how much he was setting himself and Torres up for rumors and gossip. First the two were away for some time, only to show up and seemingly start arguing? Rubin had to amend this somehow, or else his reputation would crumble.

“Please, just tell me one thing.” Rubin separated his hands from Torres’ with tenacity in his silvery eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home?”

“Quit iiit…” Torres pulled away, purposely averting his eyes.

“Fine.” Rather than negotiate further, Rubin’s stern and resolute manner made it crystal clear he was leaving Torres to his own devices. There was nothing more he could do to help. “You’re welcome to join us when you feel better.”

Rubin was only a few steps away from the table when he was stricken by guilt again. He felt like he was leaving on too sour of a note, and he hated that. Perhaps he needed to squeeze in another remark to soften the blow, especially since Torres often needed Rubin to be as direct as possible.

“Hell, for all I know you’re probably just hungry.” Sauntering around the table’s edge, Rubin offered his boyfriend a sardonic look. “No surprise there.”

To be honest, Torres thought that was probably the best explanation. Why would his sullen attitude only be due to visiting a paranormal investigator behind his boyfriend’s back? Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he was going to follow up with Manami yet. Her eagerness to run tests on Rubin disconcerted him, after all.

The two aimed to be as honest and transparent as possible with each other, but sometimes it was better for exceptions to be made. He reminded himself that his history with Naomi (which Manami felt necessary to dredge up) was basically an untouched subject with Rubin, so this could be along those same lines.

Whether or not he was overwhelmed by keeping his secret, Torres could at least try accepting Rubin’s quip as truth. Torres fought to hide his feelings by sitting up and leaning back. “You got me there…”

Rubin felt like Torres sounded insincere, but maybe he was reading too much into it. Torres’ insatiable appetite often played with his mood, so why was this time any different? Not only that, but he could tell Torres’ tension was melting away. Rubin returned a relaxed nod. “Then maybe I can stop worrying.”

‘Maybe’ was the key word. Rubin’s joke from earlier didn’t quite come out of nowhere, and now curiosity was slapping him in the face. Try as he might, Rubin couldn’t let this one go. Now was as good a time as any, since Torres appeared to be opening up. “But I gotta ask…”

Torres tilted his head, showing his readiness to listen. He even featured a slight smile, which in his case just meant less of a frown. It sounded like Rubin had veered around the more pressing questions, and anything after that would be smooth and casual.

What a shame that Torres was wrong.

Holding out his hand as though he was inviting an answer from Torres, Rubin battled hesitation. The question needed to be made, whether or not Torres chose to answer- just to prove he wasn’t letting these things slip by unnoticed.

“Where were you last night?”


	17. Big Noise VIII

Checkmate. Rubin lured Torres into a false sense of security, and now he felt like the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. Thanks to his obvious shock, it impossible to pass this one off with a chuckle too. He hadn’t really encountered this sort of situation with Rubin up until now, so making up alibis wasn’t common for him. Maybe he could just avoid the question?

Rubin was patient enough to not force an answer out of him. In fact, he might just have to leave the topic alone. The only hope he had was that Torres would, by guilt or some other feeling welling up within him, feel compelled to speak the truth.

Rubin liked to think he could figure Torres out like that after so many years of dating him, but he’d long since accepted that he didn’t really need to figure out Torres- just to accept him for who he was.

Rubin’s assessment was correct, eventually. It took Torres a few tries to force himself to speak, but he got his point across. “I got off work late.”

That answer was thoroughly obvious, but it implied Rubin knew nothing of Torres’ schedule. Surely, Torres knew that they communicated better than that. “You got off at ten. You got home after midnight. Did it _seriously_ take you that long to walk home?”

“Took the scenic route.” Torres pictured the bike trail running by their apartment building, but he purposely left it open to interpretation in case the story needed tweaking.

That answer did little to reassure Rubin, and he dropped his hands on the table in disbelief to show it. He too had the bike trail in mind, but that was an awfully risky place for someone to walk alone at night. “At that hour?”

“Well, maybe… I…” Torres wanted to continue, but he knew that Rubin was going to eviscerate any answer he gave him. The sudden interrogation session was starting to annoy him, so he thought it best to spin things another way.

“Maybe you should trust me!” Crossing his arms, Torres looked Rubin straight in the eye for emphasis.

Rubin tried his best not to let that get to him, but it felt like it struck him straight in the heart. At that remark, Rubin’s mouth gaped and his brow sunk a little more. Here he tried to show genuine concern for Torres’ safety, but Torres just wanted to get mad at him. Touching his fingertips to his cheekbone, he closed his eyes for a moment. “I _do_ , sweetie. I do.”

Torres let his focus drift off to the side. “Then…?”

Rubin collected himself and gestured towards Torres. He knew they might need a lot to come to an understanding, but it would be worth it. “I didn’t say you were cheating on me or anything; nothing drastic like that. But what if you got into an accident? What if some thug jumped you in an alley? I didn’t even get to see you until morning. That never happens!”

Rubin didn’t want that to turn into a rant, but wanting only took him so far. Oh well; maybe it would prove his point better.

“Do you want me to worry about you being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Torres looked at his hands briefly, played with his thumbs before wincing and patting his own forehead. Rubin left him in no position to argue, yet at the same time gave him ample opportunity to back away without needing to explain himself any longer. What more could he ask for?

Torres rubbed his nose on his wrist. “Yeah, well… it won’t happen again, okay?”

That was decidedly _not_ what Rubin wanted to hear, and his expression made that clear. Sternly, he set his hands on his hips and let his dour grey eyes do the talking.

Torres didn’t budge.

Rubin could tackle the issue from any direction he wanted, but the whole thing was making him tense. And if it was wearing on him, what was it doing to Torres? This could devolve into the silent treatment (especially on Torres’ end), but what good would that do? Even if they were to suddenly go home, there may still be hostility between them.

Rubin wouldn’t let that happen.

Since Torres often said so much without words, Rubin wanted to do the same. Letting go of the argument and dropping the bountiful questions he had in mind, his demeanor had softened considerably. He drew closer to Torres and embraced him, enduring past the slight resistance he felt from his boyfriend at the start. His smile grew as he felt Torres’ arms wrap around his back.

“We’ve got too much going on. We don’t need to stress ourselves out any more.” Loosening his hold on Torres, Rubin leaned away and rubbed his boyfriend’s wavy hair. “Whatever you did, it’s your own business.”

Even with Torres’ usual vagueness, Rubin could tell he was relieved. The topic may still have stuck itself in his mind, but this proved to be a bad time to talk about it. Maybe later, Rubin could get it all figured out. For now, there was a more logical suggestion to make.

“Why don’t we go have a good time?”


	18. Big Noise IX

_You’re hiding something from me._

Even though he was trying to have fun (and mostly succeeding), Rubin repeated a whole monologue in his head every now and then. Why? Perhaps it was one of those things to make him feel better by sorting out his disquieting thoughts. Perhaps it was rehearsal for when he finally poured out his feelings to Torres. Perhaps he was trying to wear it out by constantly repeating it, just so he’d get sick of thinking about it again. Each one was as real a possibility as the other.

_Though I guess I’m in no place to judge._

Since Torres wanted to join him, Rubin took things nice and slow at the start. The pair flitted around the place, approaching several friends and acquaintances to catch up. Rubin did all the talking while Torres usually stood at a careful distance, looking around at whatever caught his eye- in other words, their usual dynamic. It was reassuring, in a way, as it proved the same old Rubin and Torres were back. And if it counteracted rumors caused by their alleged spat? Rubin was okay with that too.

_Ricki saw you at that paranormal investigator’s office._

When their order was finally ready, Bruno met the couple and ushered them back to the table. The extra Sweet Lullaby on the tray showed their server wanted to join them, which they reluctantly welcomed. Taking a greedy swig from his glass, Lucas groaned and held his ample belly as he felt the drink hit him like a truck. Naturally, that incited the table to trade quips and quibbles- mainly between Bruno and Lucas. To _nobody’s_ surprise, Torres was too preoccupied with his food to care.

_Were you there to try to figure me out?_

As Bruno returned to his duties, Lucas challenged Rubin and Torres to a game of cutthroat at the pool table. Rubin noticed the other two were bloated, wobbly, and uncomfortable from the drinks, to the point that Lucas completely unbuttoned his shirt. Personally, Rubin didn’t feel a thing. He attributed it to high alcohol tolerance, but he tried acting like it affected him regardless. Unfortunately, that meant he basically let Torres win. Too bad they’d all bet on the game- there went fifty dollars!

_Good luck with that._

Rubin hit the dance floor with fury when he heard one of his favorite songs boom from the speakers, moving with as much grace and skill as his stubby legs could muster. It earned him quite a few onlookers amongst the crowd with varying responses; some jeered, some taunted, and some even cheered him on. To him it didn’t matter, because he was cutting loose and having fun. What a night. Maybe someday he could get Torres to join him, but he allowed things like that to happen in due time.

_You’re probably looking for the same answers I am._

With another round of drinks finished, so was their night. A mound of cash and change was left on the table for tips, and the group was soon headed out the door. Bruno saw them off with a few snide remarks (as was customary), while Dillon and Lucas waved goodbye as they entered the nearest cab. Rubin almost wanted to fully appreciate the cool, crisp evening by walking home, but his drunken, overstuffed boyfriend slobbering on him convinced him to get a ride instead.

_There’s a reason why I’ve kept secrets all this time._

After brushing his teeth, Rubin took a long look at himself in the mirror. Nothing bigoted was said to him that night, but the usual compliments paid his way didn’t feel very validating. ‘Cute’ was the most common. Just cute. What if he wanted to be sexy instead of cute? He could make it to ‘dapper’ if he tried, but that still wasn’t enough.

Briefly peeking through the restroom door to make sure Torres was still asleep, Rubin felt the lower half of his pear-shaped face. It was smooth like silk, and probably to blame for his youthful (or dare he say, _effeminate_ ) looks. A change was long past due. With another swipe of his fingers against his warm tan skin, he felt the scratch of stubble this time.

He smiled contently. Maybe now he could relax.

_…I just hope you won’t think of me differently._


	19. Pins and Needles I

Deccan Delights Teahouse saw a fair amount of business that morning, as was common for Saturdays. The open door no doubt lured in several prospective customers with the scent of various teas, which bloomed with intensity upon entry. Most would pop in and out to retrieve their orders, but a faithful few stayed to savor the ambience.

South Indian art lent the otherwise plain beige walls splashes of vibrant color, with potted tropical plants filling empty spaces, corners, and wall shelves. Furthest back from the entrance was the counter where visitors placed their orders, separated from the main floor by a half-wall. A simple maze of tables and chairs in the middle of the floor was bordered by sets of comfortable sofas and loveseats by the front picture windows. A small stage in the corner by the windows was a common host to local performers, but for now subtle music on the loudspeakers took their place.

Manami herself was a frequent visitor, and due to the sheer variety of the menu she never found herself bored with it. Not only that, but her being well-acquainted with the owner meant she often heard about unlisted ingredients and inventive recipes too daring (or at least too weird) for the general public. That day, however, tea wasn’t her priority. Instead of heading to the register to order, she first took a seat near the stage and facing the windows just to pour her heart out with a dear friend.

That is to say, the llama sitting at her left. A fallow llama with a white face, back, and legs held a relaxed posture, no doubt facilitated by occasional pats on the head and neck from Manami. In addition to affection and treats at the teahouse, this llama looked forward to meeting with Manami every week for pleasant conversation. This time, perhaps to look nice for the occasion, the llama was wearing a black bob wig.

Manami herself was fairly casual that day, at least by her standards. A loose, deep coral halter top with a slightly darker neck band had a teardrop-shaped keyhole on the chest, while dark peach capris carried the warm color scheme. Atop her head was a crocheted, sack-like white hat, which was big enough to look like she was wearing a deflated beach ball on her head; her voluminous indigo hair was stuffed inside it. Silver, lavender, and violet bangles were arranged randomly on her wrists, and she peered through coral-tinted wire-frame sunglasses scooted slightly down her tall nose bridge. Her deep coral shoes featured blunt burgundy toes and fastened shut with rows of buttons on the outward sides.

“So then I gave him my card and told him to call me.” Even though Manami normally talked to herself in Japanese, she was speaking English to the llama because it seemed more appropriate that way. The conversation had carried on for some time now, enough for her to relate the entire story of what happened at her office with Torres. The topic was clearly weighing on her mind, mainly because it was so significant to her career. At this point, it was causing a problem for her. “I haven’t heard from him since then. I even texted to check up, and still nothing. I’m worried that I’m being pushy.”

The llama gazed at Manami serenely, ears perked up and ready to listen.

“I just wish I knew the secret to getting clients. Is it too much to ask for?” Resting her elbows on the wooden table, Manami cradled her face in her hands. Briefly taking off her sunglasses, she massaged between her eyebrows. At the very least, her nigh-constant reflection on their meeting helped her explore her options, as well as most opportunities to pursue them. This may not have been the dead end she feared it would be.

“I’m tempted to go out and find cases for myself at this point.” It seemed like an overhaul from her current method, but it was one she’d been considering for a while. Independent research like that was a great motivator for her to delve deeper into research instead of sitting around waiting and feeling sorry for herself. There were plenty of local rumors coming to mind, too. “I mean, I heard there’s a baker in town who’s secretly a vampire. Is it more worth my time to investigate things like _that?_ ”

The llama sniffed the napkin dispenser.

“Well, thanks for letting me rant. You’re such a good listener.” It helped for Manami to have a sounding board, and she was already feeling better about her circumstances. Even if she never heard from Torres again, talking it out meant she no longer felt like she was backed into a corner. Feeling such gratitude, she pet the llama between the ears. “And you always know the right thing to say.”


	20. Pins and Needles II

“I’m glad you’re my friend.” Resting her hand on the table, Manami smiled at the llama. That remark meant a lot coming from her, since her social life was basically defunct. The only people she saw regularly were those working at venues she frequently visited, and she wasn’t desperate enough to consider them as anything more than acquaintances. Even so, she was ready to share with them some aspects of her life; most pressingly, her paranormal investigation career. The llama, on the other hand, regularly heard much more from her- but even that had very obvious drawbacks. “I just wish you had some way to support my research.”

“Manami!” A warm and familiar voice rang behind her. “I didn’t see you come in!”

It was Deccan Delights’ owner Pratima, a woman in her thirties whose warm smile was always the first thing most people noticed; Manami was no exception this time around. Wide lips bore a rich berry tone, parting to reveal her pearly white teeth. Her nose was fairly large with a gentle curve to it, and a sizeable gold stud at her right nostril contrasted her deep brown complexion. She had matte black hair with a natural curl made obvious by its two or three inches of length, while her large, droopy eyes stood out with a milky mint green hue. While she was overall short, her lengthy neck and oblong face gave the illusion of greater height. Pratima was a few pounds over what was considered slim, and her build was anything but curvy.

“How are you?” Pratima placed her hand on Manami’s shoulder, her various metal bangles jingling quietly with the motion. Pratima wore a goldenrod button-up blouse, and her billowing terracotta palazzo pants bore a faint paisley pattern in a slightly darker red. Her light tan sandals were sturdy and practical for spending so much of her day on her feet.

“H-hi, Pratima.” Manami’s gaze jumped around intermittently, plainly signaling her nervousness. Her discussion with the llama was so detailed that she regretted saying so much in public. Manami wondered how much she’d have to explain. Her dark eyes ascending to face the shop owner, Manami pointed between herself and the llama alternatingly. “We were just talking.”

Pratima was silent for a moment, during which she allowed her smile to fade. She patted Manami on the same shoulder where her hand rested, as though she were consoling her for stating an inconvenient truth. “I appreciate your company, but… llamas don’t talk, my sweet.”

Manami didn’t know she should respond, but a slight roll of her shoulder where Pratima’s hand rested gave her an unwelcoming vibe. She wondered if Pratima thought she was being completely literal, but the way she responded seemed… well, it was certainly motherly, but Manami felt it cut deeper than that. That was her own issues with her mother speaking, however. To her it sounded more condescending than anything.

“You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?” Manami felt like being direct thanks to her bristling attitude, and her solemn stare into oblivion backed that up. Violating confidentiality (to anyone but her llama friend, of course) was the last thing she needed on her mind.

“My sweet, I’ve no reason to do that.” Sensing tension, Parmita drew back her hand and gently clasped her hands in front. There was a lilt to her voice almost like she was about to laugh. “That is none of my concern.”

Manami knew that Pratima liked to obscure the true meaning of her words. It oftentimes helped to examine Pratima’s exact phrasing. For instance, did Pratima say ‘no’? Not really, even though it was inferred. But was an inferrence enough to matter?

What a headache. It was less stressful for Manami to accept it at face value and move on, which Pratima’s tone somehow made it easier to do.

“Good, or else I might have to wipe your memory!” Since her irritation had vanished (and in record time, too!), it was easier for Manami to pass off her perceived suspicion as a joke. It didn’t seem natural for Manami, but she followed up with a sly wink.

“Oh, I see! Is your business finally getting results?” Pratima was suitably amused, and rose her slender hand to her cheek. She had heard plenty about Manami’s interest in paranormal investigation in the past, and thus had seen her seriousness about it. Pratima felt this would never be much more than a hobby for the woman, and certainly nothing worth erasing someone’s memory over (however Manami intended to do that). Nevertheless, she was cordial towards Manami’s rambling.

“Sort of.” Manami absently crossing her hands on the table, stroking one with the other. She wanted so badly to talk about it, but remembering Torres’ reaction at her office was enough to set her straight. “I can’t discuss any specifics about the case, but I’m really looking forward to it.”

“It’s fine.” Pratima glided around the table, settling across from the llama like she was going to sit amongst the pair. Pratima assumed Manami would be investigating a haunted house or something silly like that, but it was refreshing to see such positivity. Manami without a sense of direction wasn’t her favorite kind of Manami. “I’m just glad you have something to pursue.”

Pratima’s minty eyes drifting towards the llama, her smile grew. If Manami was going to joke around, so would she. “I’ve a suggestion.”

“…Yes?” Manami took special note, wondering if Pratima was finally gaining support for her paranormal investigation agency.

“Perhaps when you’re done with that case, you can investigate why your friend there wears wigs!” She partly meant it in jest, but it was a question worth asking. After all, this llama may have regularly visited her teahouse, but she felt there was far too much left to be explained.

Manami returned somewhat of a knee-jerk reaction, no doubt due to her surprise.

“Wait, you mean it wasn’t obvious?”


	21. Pins and Needles III

Pratima had no idea what that response meant, especially because Manami seemed so genuine about it. Was she in disbelief, or was she only joking? Folding her arms loosely, Pratima could only muster a concerned and somewhat perplexed look.

“I can’t say I’m anywhere close.” Manami sighed. Despite her acknowledgment, the comment about the llama wasn’t foremost in her mind. “I’ve heard nothing from my client since we met. I’m worried.”

“I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Pratima managed to look more sympathetic. “I know how much this means to you. How long have you waited?”

Manami slumped over, her hands rested on her cheeks. “Two whole days.”

“That’s all?” The sympathy was short-lived. Pratima’s posture slacked, her hands shifting to rest on her hips. Pratima may have thought Manami’s ambitions were unrealistic in the first place, but to have such high expectations on top of that? It was foolish. “Sweetie, you must be more patient than that.”

Manami shrugged her shoulders. “I know, but I can’t help it! I’ve waited a long time for this kind of opportunity!”

“I understand, but I feel like you’re constantly facing disappointment with this… career.” Pratima took a seat across from the llama and inched towards Manami. At that point, Pratima saw fit to set her usual supportiveness aside and give a good, stiff lecture- though in her kindest tone, of course. She had to force herself to utter the last word without downplaying its legitimacy. “Do you really want that?”

Manami sighed rather loudly, startling the llama a bit. Pratima had a point, but it wasn’t something Manami wanted to accept. All this time, she kept telling herself that each failure was another lesson to help her succeed. Was she only saying that to make herself feel better, though? Really, her resurfacing doubts about the matter were really getting in the way. “It might be too late, anyway. He probably never wants to speak to me again.”

Pratima consolingly patted Manami on the back. Pratima knew Manami’s education and experience could help her with many different pursuits, but she tried nudging Manami to realize that on her own. “Even if that were true, what other plans have you considered?”

“A few.” Manami wrinkled her brow. She really focused too much on paranormal research to give mind to other careers, but Pratima didn’t need to know that. Perhaps she just needed to remind the other woman of her devotion to her goal. “I just have a lot riding on this case.”

Pratima assumed Manami mainly meant her own sense of satisfaction. “That kind of gamble does not put bread on the table, sweetie.”

Manami hummed in recognition, stewing over that thought. That wasn’t the easiest pill to swallow, primarily because it confirmed Pratima thought her paranormal investigation career was a waste of time.

“But I’ll leave it at that. I’m not your mother- I’m just the owner of the tea shop you like so much.” Standing from her seat, her smile was as welcoming as ever. She hoped giving Manami food for thought was helpful, even if it stung a little.

“Thank you.” Manami was somewhat distant, but not enough to quiet her down. Pratima was trying to talk her out of it rather than talk her through it, but Manami wouldn’t keep secret what she desired most. “I know it helps to have a plan B, but I’m not going to give up. I just need to be realistic- I can’t expect my phone to ring on cue.”

Holding her phone before her, she rubbed her fingertip longingly over the glassy surface of the screen.

And at that, her vibrating phone cheerily notified her of a new text message.

Needless to say, she was taken aback- and in the best possible way.

“Like that!”


	22. Pins and Needles IV

While she tried not to get her hopes up right away, Manami’s eyes greedily rushed over every word onscreen as soon as her phone was unlocked. That was affirming enough, but she needed to make sure the response was in her favor. Even though she needed to read it over several times to decipher it, there was no way to misinterpret Torres’ message.

**hey this is torres want 2 meet up @ mimsys idk if u no where that is? tmrw @ 1 gud?**

Excellent. Now if she could only remember if Mimsy’s was the tapas bar or the ‘50s-style diner. Oh well; that’s what Google was for!

Even though she was normally rather reserved, this time Manami couldn’t hold her excitement. Not only had she stood up without realizing it once the text was received, but she soon held her phone to her chest like she was hugging the message’s sender in gratitude. The sentiment was clear in her broad, exuberant smile. “ _Eee!_ ”

Pratima, having moved over to pat the llama on the back of the neck, watched Manami in amusement. “Good news, I presume?”

Manami, first turning to Pratima’s previous place, darted towards the older woman when she realized she’d moved. After a moment to adjust her hair and glasses misplaced by the sudden movement, she nodded frenetically. “Yes! My client wants to meet tomorrow!”

Pratima returned the nod, though in a far more dignified manner. “Happy to hear it!”

The llama’s gaze at Manami was abbreviated when the llama turned to Pratima instead. When was Pratima going to bring out treats?

“Me too!” Manami’s response was immediate enough that she overlooked its redundancy, but she was more focused on acknowledging Torres before she forgot. Yes, even though she was so excited about the matter, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ was inconveniently common for her- even with such pressing matters as this.

**Yep, that’s fine. Can’t wait!**

“Yes!” Manami triumphantly tightened her free hand into a fist. She felt mild guilt at brushing off her current companions, but Torres’ reply was the last thing she’d expected. This was indeed a priority, whereas Deccan Delights, Pratima, and her llama friend were around any other time. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. See you next week, I guess? Or maybe sooner, I don’t know! Bye!”

At that, Manami was out the door in no time. Quickly, she sped down the busy street on her bicycle.

Pratima and the llama were left silent for a while, but a nudge on the elbow from the llama swiftly brought the woman back to attention. Pratima offered a soft chuckle. “I suppose you want your grass jellies now, don’t you?”

The llama, though vaguely, concurred with that suggestion.

“I’m glad to see her so happy.” Pratima rubbed idly behind the llama’s ears, careful not to get her fingers tangled in the wig. Even if that wasn’t easy or wouldn’t hurt, it still seemed rude. “I do hope her plans work out. Her ideas are hardly realistic, but at least she’s never boring to be around.”

The llama huffed quietly at all the stalling.

“She enjoys your company so much too. It’s amazing.” Pratima shook her head as she looked out the large window. She found the llama pleasant to be around as well, but that was nothing compared to Manami. No doubt, the next time Manami wandered in would mean another lengthy discussion about her latest paranormal endeavor. The hours would trickle away, surely in a setting much like their own.

“And I’m surprised she understands you so well…”


	23. Guessing Games I

It was an admirable feat for Torres to arrange all this without an ounce of suspicion from Rubin, but he pulled it off with flying colors.

Sort of.

The couple aimed to share a pleasant midday outing at Mimsy’s, a tapas bar near Rubin’s workplace. The area was reminiscent of that surrounding Manami’s office, with most of the buildings not exceeding two or rarely three stories in height and with many residences above the businesses. The restaurant itself was generally casual enough that Rubin and Torres’ current outfits, though differing in levels of dressiness, didn’t stand out very much.

Torres wore a lavender tee with three-quarter-length indigo sleeves, as well as a pair of medium blue jeans and his normal tattered (yet super comfy) tan shoes. With his favorite jacket absent and a slightly tighter fit to his clothes, one could see Torres’ actual body shape. He was as hefty as expected, and a slight inward pinch below his ribs emphasized how his weight gathered primarily in his chest, love handles, and hips. His belly, though soft, barely stuck out at all. He still had stubble, but it was lighter than the last time they’d gone out; he seemed to have actually shaved within the last few days.

Rubin was more inclined to dress up than Torres, and dress up he did; though it was really no more than he would for work. He wore a burnt orange sweater vest over a white dress shirt, the latter’s long sleeves folded up above his elbows and its untucked tails sticking out from underneath. On his chest, the vest had a simple tangerine-and-yellow argyle pattern. Brighter autumn tones like that were difficult colors to pull off, but somehow he made it work. With that was a pair of khakis and cordovan loafers, accompanied by his usual iridescent metal rings and earrings. Contrasting his outfit to Torres’, one could see Rubin was much more bottom-heavy than his companion, with a much rounder belly and proportionally shorter limbs to boot. Rubin looked unshaven much like his boyfriend, though somehow he made it look more classier.

The décor around them had a rustic yet modern feel, with shiny black floors and walls interrupted by reclaimed wood paneling, natural stone masonry, and wrought-iron lights; this was most evident behind the front counter. They were at a round wooden table on the main floor, surrounded by plenty of other tables like it. Torres had insisted they get a more spacious table than the two of them needed for when Manami showed up, but Rubin didn’t think much of it.

But that didn’t mean Rubin didn’t think much about _other_ things.

“Torres?”

Torres stared at his phone with intense focus, barely acknowledging what Rubin had said. All he could think about was the words on his phone screen; the latest text from Manami.

**Hey, u never answered me. Does Reuben know I’ll be here or is this a surprise?**

He didn’t know what to do, and there were so many questions muddying the water further. Did Manami want Rubin to know she’d be there? Did she want to keep it secret to throw off suspicion regarding the tests? Did Manami’s phone autocorrect Rubin’s name, or did she genuinely not know how to spell it?

Torres looked up to Rubin’s silvery eyes, trying (poorly) to hide his feelings toward the current dilemma. In his usual manner, Torres responded with the first thing that came to mind.

“Hi.” Anything more than that may have opened him to scrutiny.

Rubin peered at the sweat trailing down his companion’s forehead. Here the first of many courses of their order had already arrived, and Torres hadn’t touched a thing. Torres refusing food? That, with Torres’ behavior, proved to him something was off. “Are you all right? Been a while since I’ve seen you so glued to your phone.”

Now Torres was left wondering how thoroughly he’d thought about this. How could he explain if a random stranger showed up, especially considering that they already had open seats at their table? Could it be framed as a surprise meeting between old friends? Doubtful, since he didn’t know if Rubin and Manami had ever met. Heck, he barely knew anything about Manami at all. Could Manami be the smooth talker of the two?

He was left with few choices, and figured he could safely rule out curling up and crying on the floor. At that point, feigned ignorance might benefit Torres the most.

“Oh, you know… new app…? A game… gotta level up… and stuff…?” Torres forced an awkward smile.

Rubin was unimpressed, but who was he to argue? Now he just had to patiently wait out Torres’ latest obsession for the next few weeks, until he got bored with it. Rubin closed and rubbed his eyes, possibly to force himself away from rolling them exasperatedly.

“ _Riiight_ …” Tapping his fingers with mild impatience, Rubin looked at the plates at the center of their table. Perhaps he might grab Torres’ attention, even if momentarily, by reminding him of the deliciousness sitting before them. Wasn’t he even slightly tempted by the smell? “The chicken croquettes are really good with the peppercorn sauce. You might want one before they get cold.”

“Uh huh…”

Torres was simply too distracted to heed Rubin’s offer. For now, his priority was to break the potentially bad news to Manami.

**nope, he dont know… think fast**


	24. Guessing Games II

Manami slumped over and sighed loudly, struck so hard with disappointment that she almost dropped her phone.

“ _Kuso_ …”

If she hadn’t been _right outside_ of Mimsy’s when she got that message, then she wouldn’t view this as much of a problem. Thankfully, she hadn’t passed by the front windows yet. In that case, maybe Torres wouldn’t see her and she could bide her time a bit longer. Better yet, maybe Torres and Rubin weren’t even there yet! Either way, she might have another minute or two to gather her thoughts.

Incidentally, it seemed she gathered her thoughts too much when arranging her outfit. Atop her head was a usual accessory, one to be expected from her; an unusual hat. This time it was a deep rose turban-style cloche that seemed to have jumped out of the ‘20s. The fabric wrapping around the brim flared out slightly, while a layered fan of carnation pink fabric stuck up from the front. As well, from the frontal base of the brim was a cluster of fake, deep rose-colored fabric blossoms atop translucent plastic stems, making it look like Manami had several strange antennae. Her hair was mostly kept under the hat, pulled back into a low, loose bun.

Her top was a pale mint-hued wraparound top with even lighter pastel mint frills on the margins and short sleeves, a darker green sash wrapping it around the waist. Sapphire blue capri leggings with a cerulean lattice pattern lay under a deep rose skirt gradually sloping between being short enough to be a miniskirt in front and almost all the way to her ankles in back; its hem was decorated with a row of darker rose dots. Her peep-toe shoes were a similar pale mint as her blouse, with a carnation pink scroll pattern adorning the length and a circular notch on the back of the cork wedge heel. Silver chain charm bracelets crisscrossed on her wrists, and deep rose pink tulip plate earrings hung from her ears. The only noticeable part of her makeup was her carnation pink eyeshadow with a pink dot at the outer edges of her eyes. A shimmering teal lamé purse embroidered with an elaborate rainbow of beaded geometric patterns was slung across her chest.

“Time to improvise, I guess.” She nodded resolutely.

Still neglecting the nearby food, Torres leaned on his hand and stared out the window longingly. It was hard _not_ to think he was expecting someone to arrive.

Between bites, Rubin quickly took notice. He wanted to leave Torres to his own business, but this was truly making him wonder.

Taking a deep breath, Manami stepped towards the entrance to Mimsy’s. She accounted for Torres noticing her right away, but the natural sunlight outside made it difficult for her to see inside the foremost windows right away. Hopefully this whole thing would play out naturally.

Sure enough, Torres raised his eyebrows as he saw Manami enter into view. His posture improving, he seemed to have snapped out of a trance.

Rubin shook his head gently, his eyes narrowed in a clear expression of confusion. What the heck was going on? Rubin figured the big blond man with a beard and tight flannel shirt sitting nearby was the subject of Torres’ admiration up until that point, but now he wasn’t sure.

Aside from that, there was an oddly-dressed woman passing by the window and soon entering the building, but was that really what caught Torres’ attention so much? Sure, her look was… _unique_ , but was that really enough to fixate him like that?

…Yes, probably. He had to remind himself yet again that sometimes, Torres couldn’t be figured out.

But even so, there must have been other issues at play if a new game and some weird lady were distracting Torres from food. Sighing, Rubin realizing his and Torres’ little heart-to-heart the other night might not have helped in the way he’d wanted.

Then the woman waved. She was greeting Torres.

Torres was sure to notice immediately since his hazel eyes were following her the whole time, but now he really had to count on her to bail him out. Hopefully she read his text and was willing to work with him on this façade. Otherwise, could he on his own make this seem like she was paying him a surprise visit?

Rubin was unable to stay quiet any longer, given how keenly this newcomer was catching Torres’ attention. “Should I know who that is?”

“What?” His eyes drifting toward his companion, Torres twirled his ponytail absently. Though he attempted to act natural, he was anything but. “Don’t I always stare at people?”

Rubin couldn’t argue with the truth, could he?


	25. Guessing Games III

“ _Torres!_ ” Rubin touched his fingers to his own forehead exasperatedly. “Knock it off! I swear to God, you’re the worst liar ever!”

Torres’ eyes drooped to the floor, though in the process they still found time to dart around a bit. The thing about Rubin’s accusation was that it was only half true. Torres was indeed unconvincing if he had to deceive someone with words, but his tactic most of the time when trying to hide something was to keep his mouth shut and sneak around behind the scenes.

Kind of like with the whole situation now! How about that?

He was usually successful with it too. Sure, it made him feel guilty as hell, but it worked. Rubin knew that too, which was probably what instigated his strong feelings toward the matter. Torres’ boyfriend was usually a little more patient than that, but tensions had mounted in the last few days. Perhaps it was time for another deep discussion.

Or it might be, if the woman in the weird clothes wasn’t approaching their table.

Rubin had a few things to say to the woman before she was able to get there, but time was running short. As well, her overhearing some of those statements probably wouldn’t end very well. Really, the only suitable thing was to mutter to himself under his breath.

“Where have I seen her before?”

“A… friend.” Torres didn’t feel quite the same need as Rubin for nuance, hence his speaking aloud. “From… school?”

First of all, Rubin was amazed that Torres even heard him in a crowded restaurant if he was trying to keep quiet. Second, why was he trying to tell another unconvincing lie? It didn’t work when Torres implied he was just staring off into space, so why would he think it’d work now? Rubin swore this whole thing was making him red in the face.

Manami was within earshot before Rubin could return anything more than a skeptical frown, which quickly turned into a cautious smile as he looked her way.

“Torres” Manami waved, making sure she had his attention. “Good to see you!”

Torres, slumped shoulders showing sheepishness, gave a brief look to Rubin before twiddling his fingers towards Manami. “H-hey.”

Manami looked between the pair with her typical subtle grin, but looked Rubin up and down a little more than necessary. She could probably dismiss her ‘master athlete’ theory based on his round build, though she may still fall back on it if it turned out she was relying too much on stereotypes. Other than that, seeing him in person didn’t deter her from following through with her plans.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Even though the gears inside her head were buzzing away, she still found time for niceties.

Since Rubin was left in the dark as to her identity, he attempted piecing together the puzzle with what little information he was given. It yielded rather… unfavorable results. Given past circumstances, he hoped they could handle this graciously. Meanwhile, his assumptions about this woman were making his grin look even faker- if that were even possible. Regardless, he too felt the need for basic politeness. “Go ahead!”

Torres just shrugged.

Rubin leaned over to Torres to whisper in his ear. This was a topic he couldn’t keep to himself any longer. “You never told me Naomi was so tall!”

Manami was setting her purse on the back of her chair when she eavesdropped. Normally she would keep her mouth shut, but from what she also knew about their history with Naomi, she didn’t want Rubin to worry. “That would be because I’m not Naomi. My name is Manami. Manami Hayase.”

Rubin really wondered how loud he was if he was two-for-two on being overheard. Sure, the answer was quite a relief, but now it appeared they were off to an awkward start. Settling back into his seat, he graciously sat his hands on the table, fingers laced. “Whoops! Sorry about that…”

“You’re fine.” Manami nodded in recognition. Even so, she couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Though be forewarned; my revenge _will_ be swift and merciless.”


	26. Guessing Games IV

Rubin couldn’t tell if she was being serious, but given other people in his life making similar boasts (I.E. Lucas), he felt safe to assume she was joking. Letting his grip loosen a bit, he snickered. He appreciated her making the best of a shaky beginning. “Nice one. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Manami offered little clear acknowledgement, which with Torres’ usual silence compelled Rubin to keep on talking.

“Sooooo… Torres tells me you know each other from school?” Rubin put his hand on Torres’ shoulder affectionately, hoping he would contribute to the discussion.

Torres relied on Manami to answer instead.

“Sort of?” Manami wasn’t expecting that excuse, but at least it was easy to build on thanks to its accuracy. She winked at Torres to let him know to play off her story, but he seemed unresponsive. “I-I mean yes! We met back in… junior year, was it?”

Meanwhile, she made mental note of Torres’ differing behavior between now and the night at the office. Why was he so much more talkative back then?

The wink was fast enough to elude Rubin, but it still left a huge gap in their conversation. Sensing that, Manami continued. “I forget exactly when it was. Naomi introduced us.”

There it was! Finally there was mention of Naomi, or at least more mention than just some faux pas. Rubin was understandably uncomfortable.

“I told you… I don’t care if you talk about her.” Surprisingly enough, Torres showed he was following the conversation. However, the line seemed too fluid; almost rehearsed, like he had to say it a thousand times before.

Rubin lowered his hand from Torres’ shoulder to his hand, where he clinched firmly. The bluish-silver of his eyes met with the greenish-copper of Torres’ as he delivered the solemn news. “Yeah… sometimes you do, cariño.”

“So much for mutual friends, I guess?” Manami nervously folded the corners of the menu. Giving it a look made her thing she may not be able to eat anything there at all, given her multitudes of food allergies.

“That’s okay! There are plenty of other things we can talk about.” Rubin didn’t know Manami’s own situation with Naomi, so he figured he’d leave it at that. Smiling, he gave Torres one more pat and returned his own hands to his lap. “Heck, I haven’t even introduced myself yet. I’m Rubin Betancourt- and of course, you’ve met my boyfriend Torres’ boyfriend.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Manami nodded, interlocking her fingers and setting them on her lap. Once again, cultural differences delayed her from making bodily contact with a stranger. She hoped it didn’t make her seem cold.

“So what are you into, Manami?” Something told Rubin that asking her where she was from might ‘other’ her, so he would let that develop naturally. Asking her hobbies was a safer topic.

“Glad you asked!” Manami was slightly more eager in her response than in previous instances. “I make and sell organic cosmetics for a living!”

Torres tilted his head slightly. That alibi seemed very strange, but he figured it was part of her ploy- whatever that was. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough communication between them beforehand to clue him into her plans. Whoops!

“Oh, nice!” Rubin looked in her vicinity for some kind of case where she carried her goods. He wasn’t one for cosmetics, but perhaps he could help her out by recommending her to others. To him, supporting small business owners always felt like the right thing to do. “Got anything to show off?”

As if she sensed his question (because let’s face it- she was going to show him anyway), Manami turned and reached into her purse. Instead of tins or canisters, instead she brought out a few small bottles. “I do! Lately I’ve been making perfume. I’ll let you sample it!”

“I’d be glad to.” Rubin smiled warmly. He pulled on his sleeve, making sure his forearm was clear for her to test her goods.

“Sorry if this one’s a little… potent.” Manami unscrewed the cap and sloshed around the contents to demonstrate. “I call it ‘Burning Sensation’.”

Torres looked uneasy.


	27. Guessing Games V

Rubin was puzzled by the perfume’s name. While he understood the idea behind it, the execution left it sounding unpalatable. Was it due to a thesaurus hunt gone wrong? “Why not just call it-”

Then he caught the smell, cutting short his train of thought. Torres started coughing and hacking nearby within moments, while Manami swiftly rose her arm to cover her nose and mouth. It was enough that other patrons were staring. She was right about the overpowering aroma, but it couldn’t be compared to most perfumes. Why? Because it smelled downright _rancid_. Identifying the odor wasn’t much trouble, though Rubin’ features still wrinkled in disgust. “ _Ammonia?_ ”

“So sorry! This batch must have turned out horribly wrong!” From behind her slender wrist, Manami’s eyes were tightened as she nodded. Waving her other hand in front of her to alleviate the stench emphasized the problem.

“Ya think?” Rubin wiped his arm where the perfume had dropped, but it did little to dilute the smell. He had been cordial with Manami up to this point, but now he was fighting resentment- the only reason why he didn’t fully give in was because he figured the bad perfume wasn’t her intention. After a few groaning sounds expressing his disgust, his eyes peered towards the restrooms. “No offense, but I can’t stand it. I’ll be right back.”

At that, Rubin was off to the restroom to wash it all off. Manami and Torres were left alone.

Torres felt that a complaint was in order. Strong stimuli, including scents, were a good way to leave him feeling rotten. “Next time… _warn me!!!_ ”

“How was I supposed to know?” She sounded somewhat nasal as she rubbed her aching nose. Overlooking Torres’ anger yet again, Manami had reservations of her own. She wasn’t immune to the odor either, shown by her vision blurring with tears. Too, she had to justify herself- after all, she clearly told Torres to advise her of any important details. “You didn’t coordinate a damn thing with me! You only texted me at the last second!”

The stench was fading fast, but their argument still drew a few lingering stares from other people. Torres resorted to silence, instead patting his own blushing forehead in response to his surging anger.

Though it was probably best for Manami to follow suit, she wanted Torres to know her observations. Explaining all the details directly was starting to seem like the best way to communicate with Torres, really. “We’re on the right track, by the way; that should have burnt his skin. I didn’t see any reaction.”

Torres seriously hoped her goal was mere skin irritation, otherwise he might have to tell her off for attempting to burn his boyfriend. Sure, Rubin was unharmed from worse things, but what if this time was the exception? His forehead was sweating enough- did she need to make it worse? His expression showed that he didn’t like where this was going.

Manami took note as she reached into her purse. “Look, you’re the one who wanted me to do this.”

Torres couldn’t argue with that, as much as he wanted to. Was there some sort of clause allowing him to leave early without penalty, though? Then again, he didn’t actually pay her yet. Just how official was this investigation, anyway?

Manami drew out a vial and shook it slightly, hoping the motion would catch Torres’ attention. The silence of the shaken vessel hinted that it was some kind of powder. “I hope you’re okay with fast-acting sleeping medication.”

Torres was curious about the exact details of the powder given his medical background, but at this rate he doubted it would matter. He’d been with Rubin long enough to know drugs didn’t do a thing for him.

Manami was grateful Rubin ordered a darker, more opaque drink like Pepsi or Coke, since it meant she could slip and stir in the powder it without it being as obvious.

Rubin approached just in time for Manami to lean back towards her seat, menu in hand. The drink was still swirling to a stop by the time he arrived, but he was too focused on his companions instead. With reddened noses and watering eyes, Torres and Manami looked miserable. The same couldn’t be said of him. Perhaps it was another of his quick recoveries.

“All better!” Rubin tried to cheer up the others with an appropriate tone, and perhaps even a bit more. “And Manami? You’re right.”

“Hmm?” Manami looked up from her menu curiously, though she tried remaining casual.

“Seemed pretty merciless to me!” Rubin patted his forearm where the perfume had been spilled. “Though I’m surprised by your weapon of choice.”


	28. Guessing Games VI

“Don’t consider us even yet.” When she caught what Rubin meant, Manami played along with the joke- and in the process, help her secret fly under the radar. Still, she felt it best to add an extra layer of unbelievability just to be safe. Obfuscation was among her favorite hobbies. “That was only stage one of my master plan.”

With a relaxed smile, Rubin was relieved that they could carry on from there. For all he knew, Manami was prone to storming out of the room in anger- though how she’d do that in those heels was a mystery to him. Before consulting Torres for another order, Rubin took another swig of his drink. This time, though, it turned his expression sour.

Manami gave him an inquisitive look.

Rubin sneered as he looked into his glass. “Tastes weird.”

Peering at the glass in like manner, Manami appeared equally uncertain. “I bet the ammonia messed with your sense of smell- and taste, as a result.”

“I guess so.” That answer seemed awfully calculated for being off the bat, but at least it made sense to Rubin. But now he was baffled as to why Manami put ammonia in her perfumes. He was no expert, but it still seemed illogical.

But there was another curiosity floating around his mind. At this point, the setting seemed comfortable enough to ask her. “Have we met before, Manami? You look so familiar.”

Torres looked surprise, were it the case that Manami and Rubin had somehow met in the past. It wasn’t out of the question considering she’d been in the area for years, but it still made for quite the coincidence.

“Glad you asked! I’m a paranormal investigator” Manami’s smile grew beyond its usual ambiguity. Score one for advertising her business- and her _real_ business, at that! Word of mouth could do wonders. “And I’m happy _someone’s_ paying attention to my ads!”

“Oh, right! I should’ve known by the hat.” Rubin felt that assumption was a bit of a stretch, but she was right. He hoped he didn’t come across as disapproving, since her fashion sense probably earned her a fair amount of scorn from less accepting folk.

“What can I say?” Manami idly felt the brim of her hat. “I like big hats.”

Torres looked over at the familiar declaration, even though this time she didn’t sound quite so annoyed with that sentiment.

Rubin chuckled in return, recalling a common joke about her advertisements- though comparatively, it was one of the nicer ones. “Is that why you put one in your logo?”

Manami was unamused, mainly due to the stale observation. “That’s a UFO…”

“If you say so.” Rubin peered at the menu again, considering his next course. It seemed like their plates had been emptied, no doubt due to Torres snacking as the others talked. “So how’s that going for you, if I may ask? I know there are probably lots of people in this town who are interested in unexplained mysteries and stuff, but is that enough to keep you afloat?”

On the other hand, her mention of homemade cosmetics proved she had at least one other source of income- even if this one wound up disastrously this time.

“I get by.” Manami examined her menu yet again, though she actually paid attention this time instead of just using it as a distraction. She was having trouble finding something she could eat. “It helps to know where to look.”

“Makes sense.” Rubin nodded before resting his hand on his cheek, alternating his gaze between Manami and the menu. She seemed about as thrilled with eye contact as Torres was. “But even if I did experience strange stuff like that, how can I be sure if it’s real or all in my head? I wouldn’t know if it’s worth it to visit someone like you.”

Torres’ eyes widened, shifting to Manami as a bead of sweat ran down his temple. What was Rubin suggesting?

“It’s an interesting thought, and you’re not alone in feeling that way. You may have more to offer than you’d think.” Manami was much better at keeping a poker face while talking, considering the reason for her ‘unexpected’ visit. It was bold of her to hint at, but if she could get Rubin to willingly go along with tests, that’d save her a lot of effort.

Rubin seemed distracted for a moment, his eyes flitting around for a server. In reality, he was digging around for the right words. “That reminds me…”

“Yes?” Manami was especially attentive. Was he about to voice the same concerns as Torres? She couldn’t contain her heartbeat!

“This has been bugging me for a while, so I have to ask…” Rubin played with the edge of his menu anxiously.

Manami nodded, welcoming his next words. “I’m listening.”

Instead of continuing his focus solely on Manami, he drifted his gaze to Torres and back again. “I think I’ve finally figured it out…”

Torres was getting worked up too. His brow crinkled, the inner edges making him look rather plaintive.

Manami gave Torres a similar look. Why was Rubin dragging this out so much?

“Torres, you went to her office the other night just to reconnect, didn’t you?” Rubin nodded at the others with certainty, like looming secrets had been revealed. “You know. Catching up on old times?”

Manami felt like picking her jaw up off the floor, though strictly metaphorically- she still bore the same blank expression. How the hell did he know Torres was at her office? Was he joking? Was he guessing? No wait, she knew what it was- Torres probably shared some details in past few days, and in that case it was much more than necessary. Torres was rewarded with a disapproving stare as a result, but it didn’t last long- after her lull, she really needed to address Rubin.

“Sure! Why not?”


	29. Guessing Games VII

The first thing Manami noticed was the grumpy look on Torres’ face, which was probably in reference to her own disdain.

“Funny that we’d run into you here!” Rubin extended his hand to her. Manami answering what Torres didn’t lifted a burden from Rubin’s shoulders, even though he was still curious why Torres would keep it a secret. Then again, his and Manami’s history together involved Naomi. It was probably best to leave that one alone.

“What can I say?” Manami’s vague smile was forced slightly wider, and could easily be mistaken for less favorable feelings. “I’ve been so wrapped up with work that I guess I wanted a social life again.”

Smooth answer. Torres nodded in recognition, because that would probably throw Rubin off their tracks. Not only that, but it would set up further meetings in the future. He took note as Rubin slurped the last traces of his drink from the glass, and peered to Manami as a result.

Manami noticed too, and nodded. No signs of drowsiness whatsoever. Test two of two was a success. Maybe now she would keep those sewing needles to herself!

“Aww!” Rubin held his hand to his chest, soon standing from his chair and heading across the table to Manami. He rested his hand warmly on her shoulder. “Well, don’t worry. We can be your friends. In fact, why don’t you come to our housewarming party?”

Torres touched his hand to his mouth with mild unease. “Uhh… weren’t we holding off…?”

Rubin knew what Torres’ few words meant, and gestured flippantly. “Not anymore! Why not this Saturday?”

With that being in less than a week, Torres had to wonder how much Manami mattered to Rubin. That was basically making it a last-minute affair, which probably would make for a stressed-out Rubin. Not the best kind of Rubin to deal with.

“Great!” Manami tried to loosen up from the sudden affection. “I think…?”

“This’ll be super fun! I promise!” Rubin tapped his finger to his chin, contemplating the possibilities and nodding in approval. It’d probably been forever since she’d been to a party, so to help with her decision he offered to ease her into it. “We can even hang out before that! What do you say?”

“I don’t know…” Manami’s deep brown eyes focused on the table. It sounded like a good time, and would even help with her research by means of observation. What did she have to lose? This was really only a matter of conquering her own social apprehension. Perhaps seeing Rubin’s reaction to her humor would help her make up her mind. “It’s not helping my image any…”

Rubin let his hand slide from her shoulder. “Image…?”

“Yes!” Manami glared at him with feigned exasperation. “Can’t you let me be a paranoid shut-in in peace?”


	30. Guessing Games VIII

Thankfully, the results were great.

An hour or so after Manami’s covert tests had been run, the trio was ready to part. Rubin successfully talked Manami into an outing that upcoming Friday, not only in preparation for the housewarming party, but also for fun- something Rubin felt Manami had missed out on for much too long. Manami didn’t bother to counter such assumptions from Rubin, despite their accuracy- instead she played it up as being a bigger deal than it really was, with her taking time from her _‘busy’_ schedule to make it work. She was still on the fence despite her agreement, mainly because she now had to figure out how to weave her observations and subtle tests into everyday social interaction. This time wasn’t like that at all.

But at least now she had a better starting point.

“Nice meeting you!” Rubin waved to Manami as they exited Mimsy’s. He wanted to give Manami a hug, but he’d since observed such things were off-limits to her. Instead, his hand moved to pat Torres’ back in hopes he would echo such a sentiment.

That might have been asking too much from Torres’ usually quiet self, especially because he seemed rather… wobbly after lunch. Really, Torres could have slipped into a food coma at any point- his lethargic-yet-satisfied expression showed said it all.

“You too.” Manami’s response was a curt nod rather than returning Rubin’s friendly gesture. She seemed preoccupied, but that was just her usual tone. She too noticed Torres’ bleariness and hoped that following up with him would be worthwhile. “Stay out of trouble.”

They headed down the sidewalk in opposite directions, disappearing into the crowd shortly thereafter. When they were no longer in her view, Manami leaning on the brick exterior of a nearby building to send Torres the news.

**No burns, no drowsiness. I’d say looks good. U?**

Was it wrong of her to assume Torres wouldn’t answer without more prodding? Given his track record, it only seemed reasonable. No matter what, she’d said to Torres what she needed to say- and it was vague enough not to rouse suspicion from Rubin, were he the type to spy on his boyfriend’s texts. This laid excellent groundwork, in her eyes.

Her vague, Mona Lisa grin was especially persistent as she rose from her roost. This was a job well done, so she felt like celebrating with… more research and planning for the case, of course! Her first order of business was finding some other way to assure Torres the case wasn’t over, even if that were already crystal-clear. Communication was always a good idea, no matter the client.

But, like many people around her, Manami’s attention was quickly grabbed by a loud snap and a shrill _‘eek’_ behind her; the same direction where Rubin and Torres had walked. In a split second, a terrible crash and the clamor of a frantic crowd followed. It sounded like some large object had broken open on the concrete below, but on turning to see, she merely beheld a rope falling limply behind onlookers.

With her heartbeat racing, Manami looked on in shock.


	31. Guessing Games IX

Now what? Manami was stunned for a moment, though she didn’t know quite what was happening. People were gathering by the second, so should she include herself in that number? She could very well turn a blind eye and walk home, but could she do so without regret? Her new acquaintances were heading that way, but since they’d given her their phone numbers she had plenty of ways to check on them being safe. But it wasn’t every day that she was within walking distance of an accident- or whatever this was.

There was the chance it could be paranormal, too.

 _Miraculously_ , that thought was enough to convince her to go towards it.

Her curiosity was simply too strong to keep her away. Pausing to remove her shoes and stow them away in her purse (because seriously, those things were impossible to run in), Manami’s hurried steps soon brought her to the commotion. Sure, the concrete was abrasive and her bare feet ran the risk of being stepped on, but those heels were hardly appropriate if she needed to run.

There were a lot of people in the way. Despite her greater height lending some advantage, she still couldn’t see as much as she wanted. There was a bit of dust floating into the air, but that was the only new detail brought to light. If she wasn’t ready to strong-arm her way through, she might as well listen to the crowd for answers.

“Did you see it?”

“They fucked up!”

“Is he all right?”

“It was a piano!”

Wait, a _piano?_ Was this a cartoon or something? She could now clearly tell an accident occurred, but how often did accidents involve musical instruments? This, she had to see- regardless of any disturbing turnout there may be.

Trying to push her twiggy self through the crowd while keeping her hat mostly unharmed was quite an accomplishment, but she proved successful- partly due to her swearing at and threatening people in her way. It amazed her what kinds of things worked on Westerners.

Manami emerged toward the front to see Torres swing angrily at someone trying to put their hand on his shoulder. Torres looked a wreck; his hair looser, his eyes reddened, and his jaw tightly clinched. Her heart skipped a beat to even see him there, and sunk when she saw his sunken demeanor.

Did that mean…?

Cautiously peering to her left, she saw a brawny man in a back-support belt and mover’s uniform move a chunk of an upright piano off of the victim; none other than Rubin. Her pulse quickened, but for more reasons than just seeing him face harm.

Or rather, a lack thereof. Rubin was out like a light and his clothes were torn, but she didn’t see a mark on him. With Torres’ own experience close in mind, Manami saw proof greater than the tests she ran. While satisfying, there were still problems to address- chiefly that his lack of external damage didn’t mean he was fine on the inside.

Manami stepped forward waved to earn Torres’ attention, but another man in the same uniform as his companion stopped her with a grab of her shoulder. A brief swat forced him to momentarily retreat, but he was persistent at keeping her away. Her sense of determination was a hard thing to overcome, especially when it meant the safety of a friend.

But soon, sirens slowed Manami’s minor scuffle with the mover. An ambulance was zooming down the street, no doubt hailed by one amongst the onlookers. The good deed would bring relief to Rubin, even before Manami had a chance to look him over. Flashing lights beamed in her peripheral vision, and a turn of her head revealed the vehicle’s welcoming colors of… black, purple, and yellow?

Something was off. She’d never seen an ambulance colored like that before. While she understood that different hospitals or paramedic agencies often had different ambulance colors, this was still bizarre. The logo was unfamiliar, too. Then there was the matter of how quickly the paramedics arrived…

Manami was suspicious, to say the least.


	32. Guessing Games X

A trio of paramedics dressed in black exited the back end of the ambulance soon enough, with their shiny aviator sunglasses catching Manami’s sight immediately. That part seemed unusual for any dress code, much less in a medical field. Her eyes followed them as they retrieved Rubin from the pavement, testing him for vital signs and whatnot.

She had to wonder how long it would take the paramedics to notice Rubin’s lack of injuries. She wanted desperately to overhear, but the cacophony around her was too much to sort out anything that made sense. Not only that, but a few police that had shown up in the meantime were now corralling the crowd further away from the site- including Manami herself. If only she’d thought to take a picture or video of the event, even though that may have upset Torres. Surely the poor man was dealing with enough.

She’d need to rely on her memory to sort out the evidence before her, though she thankfully had Torres as an eyewitness once the figurative dust settled. Sure, she could question some amongst the crowd, but did they know what to look for? And how could she ask people if they thought Rubin was actually injured when they’d seen the accident right in front of them? As well, it wasn’t likely that many noticed Rubin’s clothes were the only damaged part of him- though that was tragic enough, since Manami really liked his sweater.

Manami diverted her gaze for a mere second while pondering the moment, but her deep brown eyes were quickly drawn to a woman standing at the rear of the vehicle with her arms crossed. Two of the paramedics were rushing Rubin in with the third ushering an agitated Torres close behind, but this strange woman was merely standing in quiet observation.

Why take note of her in particular? Her appearance was unremarkable, with small stature and long, straight black hair in a ponytail. Her skin was a warm shade of copper and her long nose ended in a regal point. She seemed to be around forty years old, though Manami was admittedly bad at guessing ages. Though she was dressed the same as the others down to the shiny glasses, she stood with an unusual air of authority. In fact, when she looked Manami’s way it felt like she was staring straight through to her soul- and Manami being unable to see the woman’s eyes made that even creepier!

The chill running down Manami’s spine coupled with the slam of the ambulance doors made Manami realize she’d spaced out, which was odd in such high-energy surroundings as this. Maybe she could blame that on stress getting to her? Her pulse, as frenetic as it was from the start, suggested that was the issue.

Since that slowed down her observations, her other attempts to gather information seemed futile. Stepping off the curb gave her a clearer look at the ambulance driving away, but the black tint of the rear windows completely obscured her view. For her, it was the end of the line.

“ _Ittai_ …?”

She wished she could see what happened from there, just to answer all her the questions.

And believe it; she had a lot of those.


	33. Wandering Shadow I

Hospitals always tried its best to seem warm and comforting to patients, yet it was anything but- at least for those who knew better. It was easy to look straight through the soothing colors and quaint decorations all over the place, but in reality, the stay was (and would remain) insufferable.

Or so it was safe to assume, given that it’d happened that way so many times before.

A child no more than six years old lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to a suffocating mess of tubes, needles, clips, and stickers. Monitors occasionally beeped, cartoons played at low volume on the television, and people talked in the distance. It was hard for them to behold through heavy eyes and blurred vision, but the windows to the right seemed to emanate with a multicolored aura. Even with countless floating black smudges in view, it was rather nice to look at. Nausea was making it hard for them to enjoy _anything_ at that point, though. Everything felt so cloudy and dream-like, but not in a good way.

The child could tell an argument was filtering into the room from the doorway, and that was probably what woke them. The reasons for it were clear and it was bound to happen anyway, but it wasn’t any easier to endure. Like with every other time, they found consolation by looking the other way and pretending it wasn’t happening.

But the words were still there.

“ _No shit!_ ” Marcelo, their father, was letting the pressure of the situation get to him. The rotund man started the day with his short auburn slicked back in neat waves, but was now sticking out all over the place- probably due to him anxiously pulling and running his fingers through it. His light brown skin was naturally rosy, but his frustration was turning his freckled cheeks red. The usual whimsy of his large, dark brown eyes was contorted beyond recognition. “No shit our kid’s ‘very ill’! We’ve known that a long time!”

“Sir, I’ll have to ask-” The doctor on duty tried to be diplomatic.

“Please!” The child’s mother Matilde interrupted with a tearful tone, though just as impatient as her husband. Overburdened posture was clear on her relatively short and slim stature, and her thick hair strung loosely in a low, frizzy ponytail furthered that notion. Her eyes, tinted about the same smoky bronze as her wavy tresses, were saggy and bloodshot. Color looked to be drained from her tan skin. “What’s the problem? Why can’t you help us?”

The doctor sighed loud enough to hear across the room. “We’re trying our hardest, but we’re still working on a diagnosis.”

Marcelo sputtered for a moment, but soon his heavy footsteps echoed closer into the room. “ _Try harder!_ ”

The doctor followed, albeit at a slower and gentler pace. “Sir, your daughter-”

Neither parent interrupted, perhaps making it odd that the discussion stopped so abruptly.

The child leaned over, their beleaguered eyelids creaking open. The longer they gazed toward their father, the clearer his shape became. He stood at the side of the hospital bed, silently observing.

His fist tightened when seeing his child again. Their tan skin, normally full of life, was dull and waxy. Their pudgy cheeks and adorable smile were hidden behind an oxygen mask. Curly auburn hair had fallen out due to treatment, with only the slightest bit of fuzz growing to replace it. Then there were their silver eyes; like those of the son he lost. They were tired and glossy now, encircled with darkness.

Did the doctors even care enough to fix what he saw?

“We’ve planned another array of tests.” The doctor took that opportunity to speak. “But-”

“Just do it.” Settling in a chair beside the hospital bed, Marcelo closed his eyes.

“We can’t lose another one.” Matilde’s voice broke.

The doctor gave them a while to cope with that painful memory before adding what was necessary. “We’ll start in the morning. Be prepared for it to take all day.”

Moving to her husband’s side, Matilde nodded gently. She couldn’t gather the motivation to voice her gratitude, mouthing it instead- ‘thank you’.

“Ay, _qué carga_ …” Marcelo wasn’t quite so relieved. He said as much because he knew his daughter may not comprehend, and was probably better off for it. There were some things no child needed to hear from a parent.

But as he saw his daughter’s weak smile, he was inspired with joy through all the misery. For that alone, there was something worth saying- and they were words his child would definitely understand.

Tenderly rubbing his child’s fuzzy hair, Marcelo glanced over to his dear wife. “Our little Roxie will pull through. What a trouper…”


	34. Wandering Shadow II

It was too dark to see finer details, and the tinted windows nearby kept it that way. Plenty of tiny flickering lights and dim screens shone in the vicinity, but it wasn’t enough to matter. One had to wonder what they were trying to hide inside that ambulance.

As his eyes drifted open and shut, Rubin wondered if he was dreaming. If so, it was a long time since he’d last done that. His dreams were usually so full of strange sensations that they were terrifying and left him worrying about it for days. It truly made him wonder if there was a deeper meaning to the bizarre sounds and surreal imagery he often experienced when he closed his eyes- though frankly, that was a topic he would much rather leave alone.

But reality hit hard enough to make him jump. If he was capable of contemplating all this, it must have meant he was awake. At that, Rubin sat up slightly and patted himself down. His hands were inevitably drawn to the tears in his clothing, which even without seeing he could tell were large. Could that explain why the last thing he remembered was getting hit by something heavy before blacking out?

Oh shit. That meant the medical equipment around him was no mere figment of his subconscious mind. Was he _actually_ on his way to the hospital?

Rubin remembered it all. Being loaded into scary contraptions, covered with strange devices, and probed by doctors without any explanation. The sights, smells, and sounds of the hospital environment was something he thought he’d left in the past, without risking it all coming back to mind. It was enough to make him panic and try to escape.

However, his frenzied thoughts paused when an alto voice addressed him from behind.

“How long have you been awake?”

Rubin instinctively turned to look, thought it made no difference- the person speaking to him was obscured by the darkness. The most he could make out was a petite silhouette with long hair. Were they worthy of an answer? So far this didn’t seem like a normal ambulance ride, so what exactly was their goal? Not only that, but he was already too shaken up to want to talk. He remained silent.

“You’ve been through quite a shock.” The voice spoke very candidly and without surprise, like the ordeal was business as usual. “But we’ve made sure you’re fine.”

Rubin was moving around anxiously on the stretcher, trying to gain his bearings. The voice sounded familiar for some reason, but he figured that was probably déjà vu- plenty of other memories were coming to mind, so why not throw in some false ones too? Either way, it’d take a lot for him to trust this person.

He was determined to find some way out. Taking another frantic look around, he noticed a large figure with a halo of curls behind him. Torres was there too, sitting opposite the other dark figure. Without any forethought, Rubin tried to get his attention. Surely he could convince his boyfriend to join his side so they could bust out. “ _Tor-_ ”

“He’s unconscious.” The shadowy figure interrupted, their tone suggesting Rubin’s efforts would be futile. “He wore himself out. It’s understandable. He was fairly stressed out about your accident.”

Rubin groaned in frustration, glaring back at the figure with his hands clenching the stretcher’s sides. He didn’t even know what this alleged accident was, but he was ready to leave. His voice was weak with desperation. “Don’t make me go…”

“We’re not taking you to the hospital.”

“What?” Rubin rubbed his forehead. He didn’t feel like he was out of the woods yet. They might have been taking him to some other facility, perhaps of a more secretive nature. Why else would they have him in an ambulance?

“If you’ll notice, we haven’t hooked you up to any monitors or IVs or anything.”

Rubin patted himself down again to make sure. They were right, but that only made the circumstances stranger. That didn’t do much to calm all the questions he had, but he had so little strength to ask them.

“Don’t worry. We know your situation.” Though forthright as before, this time there was reason for hope in the mysterious person’s words. “All you need to know is that we’re here to help.”


	35. Wandering Shadow III

“I-I don’t…” Rubin fought to keep his head up, stammering as he futilely tried expressing his feelings. Was this person trying to sound trustworthy? How, after locking Rubin in a dark ambulance and not-so-secretly tranquilizing his boyfriend, did they expect him to believe that?

Evidently, they had their ways.

“As far as everyone else knows, you’re just going to be staying overnight at the hospital.” The voice remained unwaveringly confident, though with an air of secrecy. It was reasonable to think that was as much information about their plans as Rubin would get.

That wasn’t reassuring at all. Their wording about not going to the hospital might be deceptive, and he doubted that inquiring more the long-haired stranger would yield any results. Perhaps it was best for him to just lie back and tune out whatever he was about to undergo. He didn’t have much of a choice, nor did he have the energy to fight back.

“You probably don’t believe a word I’m saying.”

Rubin scoffed cynically. Whoever this person was, at least they were perceptive. However, pairing that remark with their purported knowledge of his past swayed him slightly more in their favor.

“As we expected.” The figure rightly sensed Rubin’s skepticism. “Though we’d also hoped you’d have asked more questions by this point. Really, our plans for you are no secret.”

While that helpful fact invalidated his prior worries about them divulging answers, Rubin’s heart sped up slightly with that mention. Now if only they’d get to the point…

“We’re taking you home.”

“R-really?” Rubin was surprised he could reply so reflexively, given his nigh-overwhelming exasperation. Then again, that was the effect that genuine good news could have on him.

“If you look outside, you’ll see we’re already near your apartment building.” The heavily-tinted glass was dark enough to prevent most ambient light from entering, but the view would be clear regardless.

Rubin gave a brief glance towards the window, but didn’t bother to get up. He still had his doubts, but he might as well take their word for it.

“Just lay low for the rest of the night. Preferably even into tomorrow.” The person still sounded dry and business-like, regardless of the positive message they delivered. “And if you need an alibi for your employer, please let us know.”

Rubin was more than willing to obey, since that direct was no doubt to throw off suspicion. He smiled and nodded gratefully in return, even though it meant nothing in the dark. It felt to him like the stranger would probably understand what he meant anyway.

Leaning back, Rubin closed his eyes. His thoughts, while settling down from the verge of panic, drifted back to the hospital again. Familiar sensations were evoked, and they weren’t quite as negative as usual. There was comfort as he saw his parents close by his hospital; their assurance that he was strong enough to fight through it; relief knowing he was finally able to go home; determination as he looked back on every struggle he won.

“Thank you.” From the corner of his eye trailed a single tear, which he gently brushed away. “You don’t know what this means to me.”


	36. Data Points I

“I’d say today was a smashing success!” Holding several bags in each hand, Rubin nodded to his newest shopping companion.

From the looks of things, it certainly was. Manami carried a similar haul as Rubin, presumably full of supplies for the upcoming party. That was certainly the prevailing topic of the day, which no doubt rose anticipation for the event to an all-time high. Regardless of all that was purchased and discussed, though, the pair at least looked happy and satisfied with their little excursion.

If Manami still had any worries about accepting Rubin’s invitation to hang out, they were long gone by now.

The setting sun heralded the shopping plaza’s flashy lights, setting a fitting stage for the end of their journey. The two were immersed in countless colors from the lights around them, many of which drew attention to glamorous advertisements. Likewise, restaurants and cafés sown between cute fashion boutiques took advantage of the opportune hour, leaving their doors open to tempt customers with delectable sights and smells. Perhaps best of all, the cloudy sky belied the mild, comfortable temperatures throughout the day.

The stunning level of commercialism around them didn’t fall to futility. The pair soon ascended a set of concrete stairs in search of a quick bite to eat- the sweeter, the better. It wasn’t like they’d face a shortage of such things on their way home.

“I’m glad we got some thrifting done, too.” Manami lifted one of her handfuls, gazing towards it approvingly. To nobody’s surprise, the clashing colors and strange patterns of her purchases were in clear sight. “I find a lot of my favorite outfits that way.”

Rubin peered over at her demonstration before looking the woman up and down. “You know, that explains a lot.”

Manami lowered her eyebrows at that reply, though she figured it was clearly in jest. “You love my style!”

Rubin tilted his head, his expression confirming Manami’s assumptions. With a clearer look at Manami’s outfit, it was obviously no exception to her usual oddness. Her straw hat, woven with various reds, oranges, and pinks that averaged out to a soothing burnt sienna, surprisingly had a fairly average brim size- it only extended about five or six inches outwards. The unusual part, however, was the conical crown of the hat that rose high above her head. It had a hole in the center, from which she strung her long, indigo hair. Falling freely from the opening, one might get the impression of a waterfall streaming down a mountain; or perhaps some kind of weird bluish lava from a volcano.

With that was a maroon brocade jacket patterned with medieval-style golden lions, which mostly covered her sleeveless baby blue chemise. Navy blue culottes were short enough to show she was wearing hot pink stockings underneath, which covered so far as to loop around her big toe; displaying this were her open-toed navy blue sandals, which were covered in chunky, transparent false gems. She wore a number of gold rings emblazoned in ancient Roman writing and imagery, and her earrings were a pair of life-size (though still small) golden pinecones. Her mauve eyeshadow was feathered at the edges, and her lipstick was two-toned; pastel pink on the top lip, and mulberry red on the bottom. A black purse shaped like a fish hung by her side, with a white fish skeleton decorating the side.

“Well, I can’t lie.” Rubin chuckled, recalling her previous outfits. “I guess I love your uniqueness!”

Rubin dressed more mainstream, though when hanging out with Manami, he knew he could stretch his sensibilities a bit farther. He wore a carnation pink blazer with an oversized, glossy white velour t-shirt (which was long enough to look like a tunic), as well as teal clamdiggers cinched below the knee. A lavender-and-peach paisley silk scarf draped loosely around his neck, and mustard yellow loafers covered his feet. His kinky hair reddish-brown hair was combed out a little looser than normal on top, with a pair of sunglasses retired atop his head. His matching rings and huggie earrings were a familiar sight.

Rubin briefly wondered if Manami influencing him to experiment with fashion meant Torres was less likely to agree to wear matching outfits. As cute as that idea was to him, Torres was always too stubborn for it to work out anyway.

However, that thought was soon brushed aside when Rubin saw a nearby ‘artisan’ ice cream shop called Fluffery. Grabbing Manami’s attention with a wave of his hand, he pointed over. “Does that place look good?”

Manami widened her mouth slightly, attempting an uneasy smirk. She normally avoided ice cream shops since there was a high risk of cross-contamination, which was vital when considering her various food allergies. But if Rubin really wanted to go, she supposed she could fumble her way through.

“Sounds great!”

Fluffery had a cool color scheme, made apparent as soon as the pair entered. Most of the place was a bluish off-white dotted with pastel blues and purples and trimmed in cornflower blue. Several two-person tables sat before the large storefront windows, with rows of booths across the way. Low half-walls crowned with cute sculpted plastic clouds kept customers waiting in line at a fair distance from the dining area, as well as leading to further seating in back.

Others must have had the same idea as Manami and Rubin, as the line seemed rather long. What else were the two to do, other than make more small talk?

“I hope I’m not too forward, but…” Manami looked at Rubin with concern. Rubin’s accident and everything surrounding it certainly left a lasting impression in her mind. She was still careful not to be too specific, in case he wanted to keep it secret. His fear of hospitals was worth consideration, too. “How are you after what happened the other day?”

Rubin’s silver eyes hung low for a moment, his hand meeting with his cheek. He was digging around for a suitable answer, mainly due to the instructions he was given after the ambulance dropped him off. It was best to remain vague- though as usual, upbeat.

“I’m fine.” Rubin nodded, rolling his shoulders as if to prove he wasn’t restrained by hidden casts or slings. “You should know by now- it takes a lot to bring me down!”


	37. Data Points II

While what Rubin said was true, it got him thinking about that day again and how it landed him in a mindset he wanted to leave in the past. It wasn’t like Manami knew about the discomfort of the situation, though. He was at least grateful that whoever those people were, _their_ ambulance was the first to pick him up- he shuddered to think what he’d be subjected to in another one.

But that in itself roused a lot of questions. Who were they? How did they apparently get there so quickly after his accident? How did they know his past and what to avoid? Why did the person talking to him inside the vehicle seem so familiar? Why was he so sure he’d never get most of those questions answered? Everything about the mysterious interlopers was unsettling, and something he’d rather forget.

Thankfully, the situation now was favorable for Rubin’s stalling. He figured Manami would get distracted waiting in line anyway.

“I guess most of the piano’s weight didn’t land on me.” After a minute or two, Rubin returned to the discussion.

“That’s good.” Manami was still looking at the menu up ahead, though she detoured to acknowledge Rubin with a flash of her deep brown eyes. His excuse seemed doubtful, but she would let that slide- she could just add it to her case file instead of bringing it up. “I was worried you’d be in a full-body cast the next time I saw you!”

“Oh, come on!” Rubin chuckled at that mental image, even though he’d normally find it disturbing. Asserting that he wasn’t quite so fragile, he pounded his chest with his fist. “You know I’m tougher than that.”

Manami shook her head at the faux-macho display before peering back at the menu above the cashier. She needed to make sure there was something there she could actually eat, lest she spend the rest of her time staring jealously at Rubin and his dessert across the table. “So I’ve heard. What’s this about a bike accident?”

Looking rather irritated by that remark, Rubin sighed. As with his other accidents, he didn’t want to make that public knowledge. Regardless of his injuries (or in most cases, the lack thereof), it made him sound much clumsier than he wanted people to view him.

When it came to his fussiness about his reputation, he’d deal with that later.

“Geez, I see you and Torres have been talking about me.” His tone sounded rather sarcastic.

“It’s okay.” Manami was rather quick to reply, given the shift in his mood. “He was just worried about you.”

Rubin wondered why Torres felt that was even necessary to talk about, since the last time the two apparently spoke was at Manami’s office. Or was this part of their various text conversations? Torres was much more open when the conversation didn’t involve speaking, after all. Either way, it seemed strange to mention. Perhaps he should just give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt, since Torres wasn’t one to talk maliciously about someone behind their back.

“It was just a wipeout up at Wirth Park.” He clearly remembered that day. In an attempt to get Torres out of the house, the couple decided to follow a few bike trails. It was after getting distracted by spotting someone’s escaped parrot that Rubin took a wrong turn down a nearby hill, his descent stopped by a tree. “I think my bike suffered more than me.”

“I see.” Manami slowly nodded as her assessment of the situation changed. It was a good reminder that there were two sides to every story. “Torres made it sound somewhat different.”

Rubin shrugged, unsurprised by that thought. “Yeah, he can overstate things sometimes.”

Manami crossed her arms loosely, assuming a barely-noticeable smirk. Hearing that, compounded with everything else she’d seen from Torres, certainly made the ponytailed man stand out in her mind. “No wonder you love uniqueness.”

“Not cool.” Rubin wasn’t thrilled with the way the discussion was going. Even though he normally would gladly own up to his boyfriend’s idiosyncrasies, the sheer volume of sore topics being talked about made him less willing to do so. “You’re in no place to judge him.”

Since Rubin’s mood was going downhill fast, Manami turned away and looked to the front of the line. It seemed they were soon to be served. It was a convenient diversion, to say the least.

The pair remained quiet with one another as they placed their orders. Rubin got chocolate-strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone with rainbow sprinkles and a maraschino cherry on top, and Manami was pleasantly surprised to see several options in spite of her allergies; of the choices, she settled on a small cup of lemon sorbet. Rubin followed her complacently as they looked for a seat.

But his silence was spent trying to find the right words. Even when discussing the subject of hospital visits and his boyfriend blabbing about his secrets, it wasn’t like Manami was bringing them up to spite him. In that case, why succumb to that kind of negativity? There were plenty of ways to avoid the day ending on a sour note.

“I’m glad you two are getting to know each other.” Rubin looked to Manami with a smile as he sat in a booth fairly close to the entrance. “He really only sticks to his circle of friends, so I hope this’ll be good for him.”

Sitting across from Rubin, Manami felt relieved. She hoped this ‘safe’ subject would stop her from putting her foot in her mouth again. “Yeah, from what I hear, he-“

She wanted to curse her eyes from wandering away from Rubin, but what she at the door saw was fairly alarming. It was engrossing enough that the small scoop of lemon sorbet in her spoon plopped back into her cup.

Since Rubin honestly wanted her to finish that thought, he looked rather eager for a moment. However, his expression soon turned to concern. “Hello?”

Manami moved her head to get a clearer look, making it appear that she was ignoring her companion.

“Manami?” Rubin waved his hand before her face. He’d known Torres to space out like that, so was Manami doing that same thing? Perhaps he needed some other way to bring her head out of the clouds.

“Sorry, but the ‘deer in the headlights’ look just doesn’t work for you.”


	38. Data Points III

“Sorry.” Manami blinked rapidly as she broke out of her stupor. There really was a problem, though, and it was enough to make her forget about Rubin trying to settle the brief tension between them.

Entering the door was a short woman who looked to be around the same age as Manami. Unlike Manami, however, she barely rose to five feet in height. Her slim form had little in the way of curves or a bust, and her straight, silky black hair fell to her mid-back. Jaw-level bangs framed her oval face, with a soft violet headband holding back the rest of her loose locks. Her wide eyes were accentuated with soft mauve-taupe eyeshadow, and her soft coral pink lipstick suited her smooth golden-peach skin tone. She wore a casual peacock blue sun dress patterned with turquoise palm leaves, and a crocheted white shrug hugged her shoulders. Dark brown sandals with a slight heel fastened on her feet with brass buckles.

The woman in question was Torres’ ex, Naomi- and she wasn’t entering alone.

Behind her, having held open the door for Naomi, was a massive man rivaling Torres (but certainly not Bruno) in size. His protruding stomach looked like a beach ball with large pectorals to match, the latter seemingly preventing him from lowering his muscular arms fully to his sides. He barely had a neck, and his slumping forehead diminished his already-small dark chocolate brown eyes. His charcoal black hair was shaven on the sides, letting the light sandy hue of his skin show through, while the top was styled in a messy fauxhawk.

His contrast to Naomi’s more proper style didn’t end there, either. He wore a black leather vest with laced-up sides, its front unbuttoned to comfortably make room for his belly. Under that was a faded midnight blue Metallica t-shirt, with short sleeves revealing arms covered in _irezumi_ -style tattoos. Pale blue stonewashed jeans were riddled with holes (and not the prefabricated kind), and sturdy black boots made his footfalls even heavier. Small black plastic ear gauges sat in his lobes, with further piercings on his right eyebrow and left ear tip. Black leather band were on his wrists, and large lime green headphones rested around his not-neck.

Was he her brother? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard? …Male escort? Details about him were low priority. While Manami would be intimidated by the guy in the first place (mainly because she associated tattoos with criminality), she was more worried about being spotted by the woman beside him. As such, she hastily grabbed Rubin by the wrist to head elsewhere.

“What the…?” Rubin was thoroughly surprised. He thankfully kept a firm hold on his ice cream cone, as Manami was quick to spirit him away behind one of the half-walls.

There, she was able to keep an eye on Naomi while she plotted their escape. The cutesy decoration on top of the wall had enough gaps for her to look through thanks to her superior height, though the same couldn’t be said for the shorter Rubin.

“What the _hell’s_ going on?” Rubin didn’t bother to pipe down, since Manami’s impulsiveness was in dire need of explanation.

Manami swiftly hushed Rubin before getting another lengthy look at the couple. Apparently, she was too caught up spying on the other two to address Rubin’s anger. “We should probably leave.”

“Cuz your _randomness_ is making a scene?” Rubin tiptoed to the edge of the half-wall to see what she was staring at, since he was too short to see over it. Even after observing the pair, he still had no idea what was so important.

“No!” Manami fruitlessly tried pushing him back into hiding with her foot. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Rubin distanced his feet a bit more, defying Manami’s erratic, inexplicable efforts. “Should I?”

Manami looked at Rubin again, wide-eyed like the answer should be obvious.

Rubin thought for a moment. Why would some random Asian couple in a random ice cream shop be familiar? Unless…

Rubin’s eyes similarly spread open, though his was from stark realization rather than insistence. “You mean…”

Manami nodded abruptly, her mouth tightening with resolve. “The ex from hell.”

“Oh damn.” Rubin crept away from view, even though a rather pertinent detail soon came to mind. “Wait, why am _I_ hiding? Naomi doesn’t even know who I am.”

He couldn’t fault Manami for not knowing, so his irritation was short-lived. He would want to avoid confrontation as well, based on all he’d heard about the short woman. He also considered the way Torres seemed to shut down whenever Naomi was made a topic of discussion. Clearly, there was something foul about their past relationship that Torres wasn’t quite ready to face.

“Whoops!” With that new insight, Manami held her hand to her mouth in surprise. “Sorry for all the commotion.”

“It’s fine.” Rubin gestured dismissively. Manami’s reaction was pretty extreme, but her heart was in the right place. Not only that, but now he was getting to see a controversial person in his boyfriend’s eyes. He could only imagine the gossip this would yield. “But now I kinda want to spy on them a little too. I wonder who the guy is?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Manami peered through a tiny hole in the plastic sculpture. She saw them taking their seat at one of the small tables near the window. It made since, given that the man’s enormous gut would probably get him stuck in a booth. His massive waffle-bowl sundae loaded with toppings wouldn’t make it any easier for him to slide into small spaces, either.

“Also-“ Formulating a plan to avoid trouble, Manami put her hand on her chin. It seemed like plausible deniability was the best way to go, should the two start talking to her or Rubin. “Play along with whatever weird story I make up about us, okay?”


	39. Data Points IV

“Wow…” Manami tapped her chin as she watched Naomi’s male companion plug away at his ice cream feast. They had been watching silently for some time, it was becoming apparent their observation had no real purpose. It was best to let Rubin know about the details she saw, just to sound relevant rather than nosy. “Is it just me or does that guy look like Torres?”

Rubin was indecisive. He found himself agreeing with Manami, but he couldn’t quite place why. Indeed, it was odd to think that Naomi was dating someone so reminiscent of her ex. “Sort of. They’re about as big and surly as each other.”

As he devoured his sundae vigorously, the man belched rather loudly.

“Same appetite, too.” Rubin adjusted the sunglasses laying atop his head.

“Hmm.” Manami narrowed her eyes, watching as the man broke off and ate pieces of his waffle bowl. “Interesting.”

“What’s that?” Rubin took to a nearby chair, removing himself from the fray. After all, there were probably security cameras recording this whole debacle. His ice cream cone was starting to drip on his hand too, so there was no question that he’d have to finish it. There also wasn’t much more for him to see, since the couple was just eating- no sign of acerbic exes to be found. He’d have to place this issue on the back burner.

“He’s got six fingers.” She initially turned to Rubin’s former spot, which with his absence made her scramble to find where he was. When she finally made eye contact with him, she offered an assertive nod to smooth over her faux pas. “Six on both hands.”

“So?” Rubin rubbed his cheek. He wasn’t very comfortable when someone’s physical differences were treated like a rare marvel, and wondered if there was some way he could make that clearer. “What difference does that make?”

“Just an observation.” Manami started watching again, though this time it was through a different gap in the bubbly clouds. “Though some consider extra fingers a sign of the supernatural.”

Rubin tightened his brow. How much longer was Manami going to go on with this? Torres had told him that Naomi was an old friend of Manami’s in college, but did that warrant this kind of bizarre behavior? Perhaps he needed to drag Manami back down into a more realistic frame of mind.

“Great, so should we call Van Helsing or what?”

Manami turned slowly towards Rubin, perplexed by his remark. What was he getting at, exactly? This was new evidence right in front of her, so this wasn’t even strictly about Naomi any longer. Did Rubin even know how rare functional polydactyly was? “You know what line of work I’m in, right? I have to constantly be on the lookout for the strange and unusual.”

“Yes, but assumptions like that are a little…” Rubin rubbed his forehead. He wondered if there was any point in wording it politely, or if she was just going to be stubborn. Baby steps, he supposed. “…Uncouth.”

Manami sighed, backing down from the wall. She knew he was trying to be helpful, but his constant interference was wearing on her. “I get what you’re saying, but I’m not being too intrusive. Do you see me taking blood or tissue samples? No.”

Rubin slumped his shoulders a bit. This was starting to get tedious, but at least their day was basically over. No doubt it would’ve been even worse if she started down that track while they were still shopping.

With one more thought creeping into her head, Manami headed back to the wall briefly and aimed her phone camera through the largest gap she could find. After taking a few photos, she returned the device to her purse. At least now she could say she took a picture because it lasted longer. “We’ll be just fine.”

Rubin was taken aback. Did she really just do what he thought she did? It seemed opportune to call her out about it- and without the hushed voice he and Manami had been using, to boot. “You just took pic-!”

Manami held out her hand, stifling Rubin as he began raising his voice. She was finished with her latest endeavor for now, all while strictly observing (and not interacting with) the subject of her attention- just as she said she would do. She just hoped she could assure Rubin that they were free to move on.

“We’ll be juuust fiiine.”


	40. Data Points V

Rubin frowned at Manami. She may have been passionate about her work, but the way she went about it raised his hackles. When a few other customers entered the area where he and Manami had retreated, he felt it best to make his intentions clear. “Let’s go. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine, fine.” Manami knew she was acting unorthodox, but one fact remained- she was still new at this. Not only that, but she needed to practice subtlety when it came to new paranormal prospects- even if they were only tangentially so, such as with Naomi’s friend. She merely had one more order of business to care for. “Just let me get our stuff.”

She knew she’d left their bags back at the table, but surveying their former seating area made her hang her head in defeat. A major inconvenience was right there, plain as day. “Ugh. It’s _right across_ from Naomi.”

Thankfully, Manami had a plan.

“Be right back.” Manami took it upon herself to slink around the half-wall, but not before doffing her absurd hat. Rubin reached out his hand in vain to stop her, but she was already well on her way.

Hiding her face in her hat, Manami plainly walked over to the table, grabbed the shopping bags, and headed back whence she came. Even though she drew rather incredulous stares from Naomi, the man in her company, and everyone else who caught a glance, she was confident her plan was a complete success.

Rubin was aghast. What was she thinking when she planned that gem? He could have gone and gotten the bags himself without trouble, since Naomi wouldn’t even know who he was. Instead he had to deal with this. She was being so audacious that he actually had to fight back laughter.

Naomi’s mouth hung open as she watched, sneaking a moan of disbelief under her breath. “Manami…?

Handing Rubin an equal share of the bags, he and Manami were quickly on their way. Weaving through the line of people entering the building, the pair escaped around the corner. It wasn’t until several stores down the row that they started talking again.

“Manami?” Rubin said, sighing and rubbing his forehead.

“Yes?” Manami caught her breath and leaned against a wall. Given how much longer her legs were than Rubin’s, she gave him plenty of time to catch up. She adjusted her hat in the meantime, but given the haste they’d been in, her hair merely hung down from inside rather than issuing through the hole in the top.

“What. The. Heck.” He tried mustering more to say about it than that, but that was hard to accomplish. Did she think that being so audacious would draw _less_ attention to her? He merely gestured between the hat and at Manami herself with a few dubious squeaks, flabbergasted at how she dreamed up that plot.

“People tend to ignore most things out of the ordinary.” Manami nodded rather knowingly. Whether she truly believed that or was just being cheeky was thoroughly unclear. Either way, they’d escaped from Naomi’s presence without causing any drama with her- and after landing photos of her six-fingered friend, too! Who was going to argue with those results? “It’s a scientific fact.”

“Riiight.” Rubin leaned against the same wall and chuckled a bit longer. That mental image would certainly stick with him for a while. It definitely put a whole new spin on his friendship with Manami; one he could never call boring.

“Anyway, let’s get home and get some rest.” Rubin smiled at Manami as they disengaged from the wall and headed out of the shopping plaza. That night had too many ups and downs to keep track of, but at least neither of them scared the other away. “We’ve got to get some rest before the party tomorrow.”

* * *

Back at Fluffery, Naomi wiped the large man’s mouth with a napkin. He had since finished his colossal sundae, engorging himself to the point that he had to scoot back his chair even more to make room for his belly. Satisfaction was made clear by his relaxed expression and his hand resting lazily on his gut.

However, despite his mild torpor he was still stricken with curiosity. “So did you know that weird lady?”

Leaning back in her seat, Naomi leaned against her hand. She looked just as exasperated by that question as she did when Manami waltzed past with a hat on her face, and she hoped her prior comment would escape his notice. Apparently it didn’t.

“Don’t ask…”


	41. Warming Up I

Despite being thrown on such short notice, there was a bright outlook ahead for the party.

The room they were in had a mostly neutral color scheme, though with enough accents to break the monotony. For example, the majority of walls were cream-colored, but the wall opposite the main entrance was a brighter carnelian red. The ecru carpet was flecked with shades of tan and brown, while the cushy sofa set at the brown-brick fireplace to the left of the entrance was a delicate dusty rose. Right of the entrance was an open-air kitchen furnished with elm cabinets and faux-marble laminate countertops. A bounty of tubular carnelian lights hung from the ceiling in several places; one such group was above the large elm table beside the kitchen, a row was strung above the kitchen’s island counter, and a pair illuminated the pool table near the fireplace. Cream-framed swept-head windows lined the accent wall, flanking large French doors leading to a balcony.

It was indeed strange for the alleged ‘housewarming’ party to not take place in the apartment itself, but the clubhouse instead. Although Rubin had to pay a reservation fee, put in a deposit, and adhere to certain rules, the extra space would be worth it. Really, how could their tiny one-bedroom apartment compare to a room specifically meant for parties? However, the misdirecting reason for the party would surely be on guests’ tongues throughout the night.

Rubin was flitting around the kitchen, making sure everything was up to par. He wore black tapered-leg jeans and a dark coral pink dress shirt, the latter’s cuffs rolled back to reveal goldenrod and orchid pink paisley on the underside. With his usual accessories, he wore a black obelisk pendant on a micro-linked black chain. His tresses were slicked back in a fairly vintage style, and a short goatee covered his chin.

Gazing over the crowd, Rubin nodded in approval. Everyone seemed to be behaving themselves so far, but there were also comparatively few people this early- it had only been about a half-hour since the official startup time.

Then again, he’d also told his guests it started an hour earlier than it did just because most of them were so prone to arriving late. For that reason (and probably also from his introversion), Torres was still dawdling around back in the apartment.

“Looks good so far.” Swishing his cabernet sauvignon in its glass, he figured he’d voice his feelings. At least he could do so safely, since he was surrounded by two of his most loyal, supportive friends; Ricki and Scribbles.

“Yay!” Leaning against the countertop, Ricki offered zer support with a wide, enthusiastic smile. Rubin’s tenseness was strange for zim to see, since Rubin was typically the calm one.

Ricki was the tallest of the trio thanks to zer high-heeled canary yellow mules. Ze had a fairly broad-shouldered, apple-shaped build, while zer round face was graced with such soft, cutesy features as a small nose and plushy cheeks. Zer figure’s overall soft look sported a moderate bust and slight belly. Ricki’s extremely pale rose complexion was so vascular that it created bluish undertones, and zer shaggy pixie-cut hair was a vivid rosy pink. Zer bangs were a little longer, sweeping across zer forehead.

When it came to style, ‘flamboyant’ was a good word to describe Ricki. Ze wore a black tank top with a set of glittery rainbow lips on the front, and a cap-sleeved blue denim bolero jacket. Colorful images of outer space sprawled over zer black leggings, zer pale yellow ruffled miniskirt short enough to show them off. Ze had three piercings in each earlobe, hosting flower-shaped studs in all sorts of colors.

Though Ricki’s usual pep was too much for some people, Rubin appreciated it. He just hoped his concerns were met with similar feeling. “I hope most people get here in time for our guest of honor.”

Scribbles was seated at the rightmost of the three barstools, sketching in his notepad as he listened. He chuckled a bit at Rubin’s remark, since “You don’t have to keep calling her that. This is your housewarming.”

‘Scribbles’ wasn’t his real name, of course, but he’d gone by it for so long that it may as well have been. While a smidge shorter than Ricki-in-heels, he was even heftier than Rubin; particularly around the middle. His sloping shoulders, wider hips, and chunky limbs were to blame for his rounder shape, which even with his size made him look much more cuddly than imposing. His hair would be almost the same color as his small, smoky brown eyes were it not shaven clean to hide that he was balding. His neck was quite thick, and his nose jutted out with an aquiline curve high on the bridge. He had dark stubble made more obvious by his pasty complexion, though he still wasn’t nearly as fair as Ricki.

Scribbles took advantage of the purportedly casual dress code, wearing a beige t-shirt with multicolored splatters and streaks of color imprinted down the right half of his front. Baggy dark-wash jeans and navy-on-white sneakers completed his outfit, save for the white-banded smartwatch on his left wrist. Unlike some of his friends, Scribbles preferred practical clothes.

“Part of this was for her.” Rubin waved idly as a few more guests entered, though none of them were Manami. “She told me herself she wants a social life again.”

“I’m sure she’s on her way, sweetie.” Ricki ambled closer to Rubin, setting zer hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she’s being fashionably late?”

For such an innocuous comment, it sure did make Rubin imagine odd things. Wasn’t the point of fashionable lateness to make an impression? If that was already the point of her regular clothes, _what_ was she prepared to do this time?

“Oh, please!” Rubin’s voice sounded uneasy, no doubt unsettling the friends in his midst. Worse yet, it wasn’t clear if he was even joking. “Don’t scare me like that…”


	42. Warming Up II

“ _Kuso_ …”

Manami found herself cursing under her breath like that quite a bit lately. This time, however, there was a good reason for it.

She was late. _Again_.

She was determined not to look at her phone for the millionth time, since the exact time didn’t even matter at this point. It was around two hours after Rubin had said to arrive, so he’d probably be furious at her. Or maybe just disappointed? Either way, Rubin probably wouldn’t be his usual sunny self because of her.

As for the reason _why_ she was late, she wondered if it even mattered if she explained herself to Rubin. He probably wouldn’t believe her.

But she wasn’t about to turn back. She was already on the premises, meaning it was only a matter of time until she made her grand entrance.

Judging by her outfit, such an entrance would surely turn plenty of heads. The basis of her outfit was a kind of celadon bodysuit with a smocked elastic top half. From the waist down it formed into loose harem pants, with deep pockets nestled into the billowing fabric. Frilly honeydew-green arm socks rested on her slim biceps, while small, lumpy unpolished rocks tumbled around in her hollow plastic bracelets.

Her nails were polished a dark teal with widthwise wavy silver lines, with a similar dark teal outlining the transparent minty green gloss on her lips. Her earrings were heart-shaped silver hoops, connected by slender chains slinging behind her neck. Round opalescent gem stickers speckled the upper edges of her eyebrows, and smoky mauve eyeshadow surrounded her eyes like a haze.

She couldn’t go without one of her unique hats too, of course. This time it was made of stiff off-white fabric with a honeydew-green damask pattern, and it flared upwards diagonally from the brim. The outer rim was decorated in short strings of translucent amber, celadon, and russet beads. The comparison was unflattering, but the hat honestly looked like either an upside-down lampshade or an Elizabethan collar. Since it had no crown, the sizeable hole in the top made her Ancient Greek-style hair viewable from behind. With hair curled tightly, Manami kept her updo in place with a duo of lacy honeydew-green headbands that were largely hidden by her hat.

Then there was the true showpiece of the whole outfit; a skirt appearing to be made entirely of belts. On closer look, however, it was slightly different than that. A wide whiskey-brown belt fastening around her waist was indeed the foundation of the garment, but there were surprisingly few actual belts involved in its creation. From the main belt issued many leather straps, which ended below knee level and interlaced with similar horizontal straps. Metal grommets held together each of these intersections, making it heavy enough to require a pair of other belts acting like suspenders for better back support. After all, the skirt may have been impractical, but she didn’t want it to be _that_ bad.

Considering what she’d been through to make it there, the skirt had earned her more comments than anything else. She was accustomed to it to an extent, but that night people seemed more malicious than normal. That may have been due to her already feeling bad over being late and her repeated missteps along the way, but she was ready for that to be over. Feeling as shell-shocked as the day had made her, Manami just wanted to get there and enjoy herself.

It helped that she had a friend with her the whole time. Her friend had patiently stuck by her side despite trekking around town on several buses, and even helped her keep a mostly positive outlook along the way. For that, Manami couldn’t have been more grateful. She was certain her friend would feel rewarded going to the party, being so much more sociable than her.

“This is the place.” Manami looked to her friend, who trotted by her side as she entered the building’s lobby. A short, dim hallway with several branching paths lay before the clubhouse doors, but for once that night she saw exactly where to go- there was no arguing with GPS this time. The heels of her transparent clogs clacked on the tan tile floor, the brightness emanating from the party room narrowing her pupils in the contrasting light. She moved slightly out of view from the clubhouse’s doors to confer with her friend- or perhaps to stall even more. “Ready to meet everyone?”

Her friend looked content, ears attentively facing forward. That friend was none other than the bewigged llama with whom she regularly went out for tea, that night wearing an ebony wig full of mid-length curls and a string of pearls serving as a headband. In response to Manami, the llama shifted weight between each leg in anticipation to keep on moving.

With that definitive answer, Manami strode through the entrance with the llama close behind. With her heart quickening its beat, she could only guess what kind of reaction she’d get.


	43. Warming Up III

Rubin wondered how much longer he’d have to wait for Manami. The party had been going for almost an hour (two if one counted the fake starting time), and as far as he could tell everyone who promised to come was there. Sure, the crowd was reverberating pleasantly, but it felt empty without his special guest there. What else was he supposed to do for that housewarming party, other than show off his new apartment?

…All right, he hadn’t gotten around to that yet. But that was beside the point. What was taking that girl so damn long?

In fact, since Scribbles was still seated beside him at the kitchen counter, he figured he would mention his woes. “What’s taking that girl so damn long?”

Scribbles shrugged noncommittally. As much as he’d like to answer in her place, the best he could do was speculate about her absence. “Maybe she’s taking her time because she’s nervous.”

Gazing to the front door, Scribbles’ wandering mind put him in Manami’s place- and possibly even further, as he thought he’d seen a furry tan leg duck behind the doorway. He really wondered why Rubin told Manami she had anything to do with the party, even if that were Rubin’s intention. Who was to say she enjoyed being the center of attention? That notion deserved a subtle hint or two. “I know I’d feel that way.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Rubin sighed, pouring himself another glass of wine. He was surprised that Ricki hadn’t yet chimed in with zer usual optimism, since ze was just across the counter taking care of hors d'oeuvres. He supposed ze was too wrapped up in zer task for that, though. On the other hand, what else could Ricki say to reassure him?

At least Scribbles’ input got him thinking. He’d considered texting Manami yet again, but would that make any difference if she was just going to ignore them? As well, it seemed impossible for Rubin to enjoy himself if he was just going to sit around waiting for her. Perhaps it was best for him to start guiding a few tours to the apartment. If nothing else, that would kill time.

Though he took to staring at his drink, Rubin’s attention was grabbed when he heard a few surprised voices around him. He saw Manami was making her entrance, apparently accompanied by a live llama. As well, her skirt of belts and lampshade headdress left him scratching his head. What the heck? He could only guess what ran through her mind when planning that masterpiece. Maybe the llama was supposed to be part of that bizarre getup? Whatever the case was, he was pretty sure the presence of livestock violated a few clubhouse rules.

He set aside his relief for her arrival, as his stern facial expression plainly showed. Sliding off his seat, he passed by the gawking Scribbles without a word. He wanted Manami to stay, but her artistic statement (or whatever the reason was for that llama) needed to be dealt with. Apparently, there was only so much creativity Rubin would tolerate from her.

But there was one more thing to come to mind, leading Rubin to pivot back towards the kitchen. There, he patted his hand on the counter to gain Ricki’s attention. Ricki had mentioned fashion in regards to Manami, and her outfit served to explain Rubin’s earlier comment.

Motioning his thumb over his shoulder, Rubin pointed out the oddly-dressed woman in the doorway. “See what I meant?”


	44. Warming Up IV

As his friend scurried away, Scribbles seemed glued to his seat. His wide-eyed stare and tightened posture proved he wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. Not only was the blue-haired woman’s still identity in question, but the her outfit was also making Scribbles wonder if he missed some addendum in the dress code. Or was he suddenly at a high-fashion show? At the very least, he had an answer for what that furry leg belonged to- not that it made the situation any less weird!

The closer Rubin got, the more he was surprised nobody was actually approaching Manami. Were they keeping their distance just to stare judgingly? Now he was starting to feel at odds with his plans for her. If almost everyone was going to be talking down at her, did he want to make her feel worse by telling her to take her llama outside? She probably went through so much effort to drag a llama into the middle of the city, too.

With that in mind, Rubin’s features softened as he plowed between two talking guests. He felt obligated to sound as nice as possible, meaning that any remarks about her lateness were off the board. “Manami! Great to see you again!”

“Glad I finally got here!” Manami flickered her sable eyes back and forth, assessing the crowd. Not only could she tell whispers about her were already gathering, but Rubin’s facial hair especially stood out to her- it certainly wasn’t there last time they’d hung out.

“And I see you’ve brought…” Nodding, Rubin paused to formulate his words carefully. While he’d already established that he could be frank and snarky with her most of the time, he didn’t feel like that was appropriate now. “…This little guy?”

The llama stared at Rubin, ears swiveling to the ambient music.

Manami patted the llama behind the ears, careful not to jostle the wig. “Yep, one of my best friends. I hope you don’t mind a last-minute plus-one on your guest list.”

Rubin wore an uneasy grin, peering at Manami and the llama as he waited for the former to elaborate. Did she have any better explanation than the llama just being a ‘friend’?

Manami picked up on Rubin’s subtext despite him keeping his mouth shut. She might as well fall back on a usual excuse, which nobody really felt comfortable questioning. She didn’t really feel comfortable with it herself, but it was a necessary evil. After all, she’d been booted out of places before because of the llama- the convenience store below her office even had a sign specifically forbidding llamas, among other animals.

“This is my service animal.” If he needed to know more that, she was prepared to keep it vague- a trick she’d learned from the llama. Being around the llama made her happier, so that was her go-to reason to keep the llama around.

Rubin held his forehead and adjusted his shoulders a bit. That excuse seemed so whimsical and trivializing of _actual_ service animals, but he didn’t want to contradict her in front of other people. He’d never heard of a service llama-in-a-wig before, but he’d rather accept it rather than stress out any more. With a deep sigh, Rubin figured he’d throw in a single stipulation. “Just make sure you clean up after her, all right?”

The llama nuzzled Rubin’s shoulder curiously once he used those pronouns. Did the llama look like a ‘she’ just because of wearing a wig?

Rubin wasn’t sure what that reaction meant, though he hoped the llama wasn’t becoming aggressive. He’d heard llamas were prone to such behavior, and wondered why Manami didn’t use an alpaca instead- they were supposedly much kinder.

Wait, why was he trying to figure out that damned animal? The more he questioned the llama, the stranger such things became. It was better to just treat the llama like any other guest, despite that probably meaning he’d little chance of getting his deposit back. Then again, Bruno ran that risk too…

It wasn’t long before the llama wandered off into the crowd. Perhaps the llama wanted to socialize, or perhaps dance to the music.

Rubin glared as the llama walked away, hoping Manami knew what she was doing. Service animal or not, her recklessness had surfaced before- and it better not be part of the equation this time.

“Sounds good!” Manami clasped her hands at her front, trying to pick out her next target to interview. Yes, despite being at a party, Manami was still determined to carry on with her investigation. One might think the mysterious ambulance ride was enough, but Manami herself wasn’t in there. How was she supposed to know what was said and done to facilitate Rubin’s swift recovery? There looked to be over twenty people there who presumably knew Rubin, each having their own details to share about his odd abilities.

However, her antics at the ice cream shop reminded her of one thing- she couldn’t be too conspicuous about it. Not only would Rubin surely notice, but there were a lot more eyes on her there overall. She’d take it easy, letting her work unfold naturally.

In fact, she felt the best way to ease into it was to let Rubin lead her on the first leg of the journey. Turning to him, she assumed her usual Mona Lisa smile. “Anyone special you want me to meet first?”


	45. Warming Up V

“Well…” Rubin’s silver eyes instinctively rolled over to Torres. To him, it felt like the situation could use a little levity. “You’ve already met _my_ most important person.”

Honestly, he’d introduce Manami to everyone there if he went according to plan. However, he was picking up a different vibe in the room than he expected. First off, people didn’t seem too thrilled when she’d walked in, but that may well have been due to the llama rather than Manami herself. Or maybe it was the initial shock of her outfit? Anyway, Rubin had name-dropped her so much as the special guest that his friends and acquaintances simply _had_ to be welcoming. That was how it worked, right?

Rubin surveyed his surroundings again, discerning who would make for the most comfortable introduction. He was pretty sure Torres was the only one present Manami knew, and despite being closest in proximity he appeared to have designated a gaming table with his usual clique. The pool table was nearby too, but Lucas, Dillon, and the other players might not appreciate their game being interrupted. Over by the fireplace, some women Rubin knew from work and Stronghold regulars chatted in their respective groups. Weighing those options, it seemed like his best bet was to loop back to Ricki and Scribbles in the kitchen. His only other choice was Bruno stuffing himself on appetizers, and Rubin really just wanted any introduction to him to be incidental. “I guess we could start-”

“Oh my _god!_ ”

Tightening his brow, Rubin moved his eyes to the source of the voice before lending Manami a knowing look. Apparently he wasn’t alone when approaching the visitor, and Ricki was making that quite obvious- it sounded like ze wanted the world to hear. Rubin couldn’t quite figure out what Manami’s reaction meant at a glance, so he decided to sit back and watch.

Besides, Ricki probably wasn’t going to let Rubin get in another word in until ze was done gushing.

Holding Manami by the arms, Ricki’s ravenous ice-blue eyes looked her up and down. Ze took in every quirky detail about her outfit, zer face looking almost star-struck. It wasn’t every day that ze saw such a spectacular ensemble. Was it possible to have too much to say and yet at the same time, be at a loss for words?

“ _You_ are a goddess!” Ricki acclaimed, freeing one hand to cradle zer cheek.

Apparently the shock on Manami’s features was overlooked, though Ricki obviously had greater priorities. Ricki was overwhelmingly positive, but she hated when any stranger got in her face like that. She guessed it was to be expected too, considering how loud and exuberant people could be on this side of the Pacific. Nevertheless, she looked somewhat resentfully toward Rubin for allowing his friend to grab her like that.

“Thank you.” Manami responded rather flatly, stepping back to adjust her arm socks.

“You’re welcome, sweetie!” Ricki let her go as easily as ze took hold of her, though ze was still eager to feel each part of her outfit just to figure out how it worked. Did she make it herself? Did she buy it? If so, where? Did she need to take special precautions while in a belt-skirt?

However, Ricki soon realized ze was letting zer excitement get in the way of niceties. “I’m Ricki, by the way. Ze, zim, zer, s’il vous plait!”

“Yes, of course. My name is Manami Hayase. And-” Manami gazed to Rubin to clarify the latter portion of that statement, since it sounded like Ricki had slipped into another language. French, perhaps? Although she felt like she knew enough French to determine that Ricki was making some kind of request.

Rubin was grateful to have stuck around, since he initially just wanted to slip away and let Ricki work zer magic. Since Manami seemed to be scrambling to figure out what Ricki was talking about, he was happy to intervene. “Those are zer pronouns.”

“Ze. And… zer.” Manami nodded, her hand on her chin. That confirmation was a bit of a relief to Manami, since Ricki’s style and clothing were all over the place; assuming zer identity seemed like a mere grasp at straws.

Rubin hoped Manami wasn’t being skeptical, or else he’d have to have a word with her. However, he wanted to give her more credit than that- right now he could easily imagine her mentally placing those unfamiliar pronouns into a sentence. Rather than let the discussion lull too much, though, Rubin was compelled to hold up her part of it. “She, her, hers for this dear lady.”

“Fantastic!” Ricki grinned so widely that it almost looked painful. Ze struggled to avoid being touchy-feely again, or at least until ze knew Manami better. “Rubin’s been talking about you nonstop, Miss Manami, so I can tell I’ll just adore you!”

“Lovely.” She felt kind of bad upon mention of Rubin talking about here, because he’d heretofore never mentioned this Ricki person to her. Regardless, ze at least gave her a great setup to her interviewing plans. Sure, she’d have to blend it into regular conversation, but Manami was nothing if not vigilant when she wanted it her way.

“And I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say about him in return.” She tilted her head toward Rubin, though in her peripheral vision he was nowhere to be seen. A brief look around indicated he’d stepped away, no doubt feeling Ricki would take adequate care of her. Overall, she was glad that eliminated some of the need to skirt around her true goal. Ricki, in the meantime, would be none the wiser of why she’d ask the things she would.

“Sure!” Ricki was emphatic, like ze was about to whip out a photo album full of embarrassing memories. “I remember one time…”

Manami took on an unusually large grin. Judging by Ricki, this party would surely be a goldmine of information.


	46. Warming Up VI

Manami was glad to have talked with Ricki. Sown among the gossip and silly anecdotes were genuinely helpful tidbits she was sure to track in her phone once she could confirm nobody was looking over her shoulder. For example, ze remarked on Rubin’s sudden beard growth without any prompting from Manami. Apparently, it was common for him to use his facial hair like a regular fashion accessory on dubiously short notice. It interested her to know it wasn’t just Torres nitpicking about things nobody else cared to notice.

Speaking of Torres, a slight pivot to her right brought her in plain sight of his gaming table. She understood she’d already met Rubin’s boyfriend, but she remained curious why Rubin didn’t take her there first. It was certainly a fine springboard for getting to meet people, in this case the five others in Torres’ company. Waving meekly, she hoped she would catch Torres’ eye.

“Who’s _that?_ ” One of Torres’ friends whispered his way with disapproval.

“You know her?” Another tablemate voiced concern in a similar tone.

Torres noticed, all right, but that didn’t mean his companions’ collective reactions made it easy for him to acknowledge her. The formerly relaxed slump he sat in while previously playing around on his phone quickly shifted into him hunching forward, like he was trying to hide. There was much to be said for someone his size trying to duck behind a tiny mobile device.

Manami noticed regardless of his attempts. There he was in his heavily-worn sky blue jacket, though at least his hair looked to be combed and his stubble shaven. He dressed down compared to his boyfriend (which by this point she figured was common), wearing tan cargo pants and an ultramarine t-shirt with royal blue horizontal stripes. She didn’t bother to interpret what Torres’ posture meant, since he was probably going to react in his standard way.

“Torres!” Manami ambled over, landing close enough that the metal grommets of her belt-skirt clinked against the wooden table. Manami’s sable eyes took note of each person huddled in that particular corner, assuming the cards strewn about the table were from some kind of game. “Having fun over here?”

With an unsettled shrug, Torres’ eyes circled around his current group. It seemed like an exhausting feat to introduce them all, but he supposed it needed to be done. He could already hear their offhand remarks about Manami’s outfit, though. “Yeah, I guess.”

Manami’s vague smile, energetic eyes, and undeniable presence pushed Torres’ following silence into discomforting territory. He was honestly just trying to think how to make an introduction, but the others no doubt thought he was stalling- or perhaps trying to ignore the oddly-clad woman who approached.

“So…” Mack, the friend to Torres’ left, picked up the conversation with his deep, thick voice. Mack looked shorter than Torres, yet much larger if one went by circumference. Mack being proportionally the heaviest one in view was quite an accomplishment, given that Torres and several others in the crowd were so big. The warmth of his soft brass skin tone suited his maroon ringer tee and cadet grey jeans, the former sporting periwinkle trim and an image with dice and a slogan Manami was too far away to clearly read. His hair was a dark chocolate brown, mostly tucked under his faded burgundy stocking cap. His full, bushy beard, on the other hand, fell unstrained down his upper chest. His large, dark mahogany eyes drooped at the outer corners, and his weight lured attention away from his facial structure being rather drawn-out. By his treatment of Torres, he obviously he knew him well enough to speak in his place; yet another habit Manami noticed from Torres. “You know her?”

“Yep.” Torres offered a much more curt answer, since Mack wording his question exactly like an earlier slight towards Manami. Torres only hoped Mack didn’t mean it that way, but it was hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. “A friend.”

“Ah.” Knowing what was going on, Mack saw fit to take the proverbial reigns of the discussion from Torres. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mack.”

“Likewise.” Grasping her hands at her front, Manami nodded in return. She wasn’t getting the most welcoming vibe from this selection of guests, but she figured she would feel it out a little longer. Mack evidently cared enough to introduce himself, so maybe that would prove her wrong. “My name is Manami.”

“Great! And since these dorks’ eyes are glued to your outfit, I’ll do the nice thing and introduce them.” Mack spoke in an authoritative way, almost like he was watching over the group like a father- complete with ‘dad’-like humor from the looks of it, too. That seemed to be the others’ reaction to his dig anyway, considering all the scoffing and eye-rolling that followed.

“Don’t let me stop you!” This was too good. It might not get her anywhere with evidence and such, but Mack’s quip was calling them out on their gossip. Not only would let her glimpse into the general attitude of the crowd, but she could also think of her own comebacks in case of backhanded remarks. Drawing from that point, she pulled at her skirt in a curtsy-like manner. “And when you have the time, I’d _love_ to know what they think!”


	47. Warming Up VII

Well, that was a letdown. Mack seemed nice enough, but the rest of the gamers at that table acted impatient, like she was interrupting their oh-so-important game. Heaven forbid she ask how the game was played, too! It was complicated for sure, but she didn’t think her initial misunderstanding of it should’ve earned so much scorn. She didn’t appreciate the ending remark about being ‘character design inspiration’, either.

Things were looking up, though. A brief stop to admire the fireplace eventually led to a conversation with two burly fellows named Neal and Omar. Naturally, the conversation started out in regards to her outfit (for the hundredth time that night), but she was eventually able to direct things in her favor.

“So what’s the Stronghold?” Manami inquired of the two before taking a sip of hot cider. They’d mentioned knowing Rubin and Torres from there, which by its name made her envision some kind of castle. As amusing as it was to picture these two muscular men as knights, she was fairly sure it was something else.

“Oh, it’s our favorite bar.” Neal was swift to reply, even though Omar looked like he was about to say the same thing. Neal was a pale man with striking crystal blue eyes, his tall and sturdy physique yielding to a slight paunch. The light blond hair atop his head was mostly shaved, though with it growing out slightly it proved he was bald. A few short, wispy locks remaining on top seemed twirled so as to stick upward, giving some semblance of a hairstyle. He made up for such hair loss with a prolific beard, which sprouted a few gingery streaks around his wide chin and the sides of his wide mouth. Even though he was seated, Manami guessed he was slightly shorter than her. For the occasion, he wore an open sapphire blue corduroy sport coat along with a navy blue graphic tank top and khaki trousers. Completing the look was a left-side silver stud on his lower lip.

“Oh?” Manami pursed her lips, grateful for the opportunity presented before her. There was no reason to wander off on another topic when she could bring up Rubin’s capabilities now- and hopefully, draw out further details from there. “Don’t tell me Rubin’s some kind of lush.”

“Geez, I dunno.” Omar chuckled lightly at that thought. He was noticeably thicker and more toned than Neal, though certainly not enough to detract from his cuddliness. Omar’s complexion was a rich cinnamon, while his short, tightly-curled tresses were a deep oak brown; large eyes were tinted about halfway between the color of his skin and hair. His broad nose had a definite crook in the bridge, and a short circle beard surrounded his shapely lips. His left arm was hirsute enough to suggest the same from the rest of him, while its counterpart on the right was missing from the mid-bicep down. He wore dark camel brown Bermuda shorts with an untucked, pale mint green dress shirt with short sleeves, embroidered with a sparse pattern of tiny forest green leaves. A braided twine and wood-beaded necklace sat around his broad neck. “He surprises us all.”

“Is that so?” Manami leaned forward attentively, elbows on her knees and hands gently holding her cup. She struggled to keep her phone in her pocket, rather than use it to conspicuously take notes.

“The little guy packs a mean punch.” Omar leaned back, a bemused look on his face as he recalled all sorts of things about Rubin. “Scares me whenever he gets into a fight.”

“Heck yeah!” Neal scoffed, lightly pushing Omar on the shoulder. “One time I saw him throw a guy twice his size across the room, too. He’s got some serious muscles hiding in there somewhere.”

“Wow.” Manami looked between the two curiously. This wasn’t a side of Rubin she’d heard about yet. Sure, the apparent super-strength was one thing (and news to her, at that), but what was Rubin doing getting into bar fights? Was this a regular thing? Even if it didn’t hurt him, he seemed much too level-headed for that. Hopefully it was a different possibility, which soon came to mind. “Does he do that at some boxing or wrestling club?”

“Nah, he means at the bar. I’ve seen it too.” Neal leaned on the sofa’s armrest, his expression settling to match that of Omar. The two probably had a lot more to say about Rubin, and would no doubt jump at the chance to do so. “Bet you been thinking he was Mr. Goody Two-Shoes, right?”

Manami sat quietly for a moment, adjusting her belt-skirt so she could cross her legs. She mulled over what they’d mentioned for a moment, wondering if she needed to hear more. It was certainly relevant, but she’d also been holding Rubin’s kindness in fairly high regard. She worried where her overactive imagination might take her, should their gossip persist. Perhaps a brief change of subject was best, at least until she could mentally prepare to hear worse things about Rubin.

“So how long have you two been together?” It made sense to ask, and no doubt flattered their deep bond. They were probably inseparable, given that they were sitting so close together and acting so touchy-feely. Omar even had his arm outstretched behind Neal’s back. It was almost enough to make her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“We’re…” Neal looked aside, idly playing with his lip piercing. He didn’t want to finish that sentence, since it was an explanation he’d needed to make so many times before.

Thankfully, Omar knew and picked up his slack. That didn’t mean he was comfortable about it, so proven by him rubbing the back of his neck. “…Not dating.”

…Oops!


	48. Warming Up VIII

“So…” Manami’s gaze bounced around the room as she tried looking nonchalant. She wondered if she should either leave this Bruno fellow alone or come back later, since he seemed rather preoccupied reloading his plate at the snack table.

It may still be worth it to chat, though, since she’d already enjoyed relative success since parting ways with the not-dating pair. She got to talk with several more people who knew Rubin well, including Lucas and Dillon. Details mostly followed the same trends as before (enhanced bodily control, apparent invulnerability, implausible appearance changes, and so on), but getting that kind of confirmation was good enough for her.

“How do you know Rubin?” Manami politely clasped her hands behind her back, keeping her tone cordial despite having to speak over the crowd.

Bruno looked over his shoulder at Manami. As with most others, her outfit far outshone his in terms of fanciness. He wore a tight white t-shirt with a faded, multicolored tribal shark on the front; it riding up several inches on his glutted belly was a sign he’d already eaten plenty. With that were an olive green vest, light brown cargo shorts, and navy flip-flops. He wore his usual grey cap far back on the crown of his head, letting his thicker waves of hair dominate the front.

One other thing he wore was a gruff expression, which displayed his foremost thought in mind- _why_ was she talking to him? He had his own reasons for going to parties like these (as evidenced by the piles of snacks on his plate), but making idle chitchat with living video game characters wasn’t one of them. Galumphing past her to the armchair he’d claimed, he grumbled his impudent response. “We went to the moon together back in ’69.”

“Fascinating!” Manami brought her hands to the front, tapping her fingertips together. She could tell he was joking, but for her it was a pleasant surprise. Here, a man who came across as a grouchy buffalo could possibly match her in wit. “So tell me- why do so many people believe that was faked?”

”What shark is _that_ supposed to be?” A young man asked Bruno just as the large man took a seat, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

His lively eyes, a brilliant gold with a greenish aura around the pupil, eagerly looked over Bruno’s shirt. Shorter than Manami and slim in stature, this fellow had a faint tan to his light skin and his golden blond hair arranged in short curls. Curiously, he only wore robin-egg blue swim trunks and had a cobalt beach towel over his shoulders. Likewise, he was dripping water all over the carpet.

This guy had sharks on literally everything in his possession, which probably proved why he asked that question.

However, Bruno was none too happy to be asked two of the most insipid questions he’d heard all day- and in such quick succession, too! At least this newcomer was probably easier to get rid of than Manami was. With that assumption, Bruno shook his massive arm to shoo the other guy away. “Fuck off, kid.”

“I’m _twenty!_ ”

Somehow, this guy was more offended by the immaturity implications than by foul language directed his way.

Manami slumped a bit as she watched the situation spiral into strangeness. Despite distancing herself with a few steps back, she likened this whole situation to a train wreck- so bad that she couldn’t stop watching.

“No, _you_ fuck off.” A woman almost a head shorter than the blond guy crossed her arms sternly. She had medium brown skin, with a thick and curvy figure hugged by a two-piece swimsuit; a Neapolitan-colored tank top with dark chocolate brown boy-shorts. Her wavy dark ochre hair was pulled back in a thick braid, and her russet eyes glared with attitude. A huge bough of bougainvillea was tattooed on her left shoulder, chest, and neck region, while her right shoulder bore a simplified, geometric portrait of Frida Kahlo. “Cas asked you a question; you don’t gotta be an asshole.”

Manami was rather intimidated by the woman right off the bat, but her tension subsided when she noticed Bruno take a similar demeanor. Somehow, this woman demanded respect of a normally irreverent man three times her size. Or perhaps he was just caught off-guard?

“Tiger shark.” Bruno shifted in his seat rather uncomfortably, breaking eye contact with the darker-skinned woman. His arm defeatedly flopped down the side of the chair, free for the quirky blond to scrutinize it as he pleased.

“Couldn’t be.” The fellow, apparently named Cas, merely bent down and looked over the image a second time. Tilting his head, he got a better look at the abstract shapes comprising the image. “The anatomy’s all wrong.”

“Bull shark, then.” Bruno drummed the fingers of his free hand on the armrest, overwhelmed by boredom and exasperation.

“Actually, bull sharks-” Cas stroked his lips with his fingertip, yet again ready to draw upon his own knowledge.

Bruno groaned, hitting his gigantic head against the top of the armchair. “ _This_ is bull shark…”

“All right, Cas.” The other woman grabbed Cas by the arm, leading him to the snack table not far away. She wasn’t about to test Bruno any longer, given his visible frustration. “Let’s go get some food. I bet you’re hungry from all the swimming, right?”

“Hi, I’m Manami!” Manami waved meekly, intervening before Cas had an opportunity to speak. Her greeting seemed out of the blue, but it surely wasn’t as strange as everything else that was happening, right?

The other woman furrowed her brow in surprise. Since her focus had been elsewhere up till now, she’d assumed Manami was standing behind some kind of weird belt-cage-sculpture thing, so to see it moving around with Manami certainly put a humorous spin on things. Perhaps she’d get a few laughs from keeping Manami nearby. “I’m Melina; Mel for short. Torres’ friend from when we were kids.”

Manami nodded graciously, admiring that Torres could keep a friendship alive that long. Then again, she also recalled Rubin mentioning how seriously Torres took relationships. He was definitely full of surprises.

“And this is Torres’ cousin Cas.” Mel moved Cas to her side to demonstrate, still loosely grasping his bicep.

Cas looked to the snack table, bewildered by the sudden detour. Why was there a change in plans? And why was that lady’s outfit so weird? Why was Bruno wearing a shirt of some nonexistent fantasy-shark? He had too many questions buzzing around his head, but right now he was pressured into introducing himself. This would take all the finesse he could muster.

“Actually, my full first name is Caspian.” He offered a lopsided smile, baring a rather jagged set of teeth. “That’s the name of a sea, but it’s not a sea where there are any sharks. I was kind of bummed out when I found out about that. That’s cuz sharks are my favorite animals.”

Manami nodded slowly before raising a finger, attempting to speak. Her aim was to talk to Melina, since Cas’ fixation was too narrow to yield likely results. She still set aside time to be polite, though.

“Your dress reminds me of a shark cage.” Cas looked Manami over, observing the clash of leather and steel. “But those are metal and not leather, or else the sharks would just bite right through it. I really want to go into a shark cage so I can pet a shark. They’re really smart creatures, but people just think they’re mindless killing machines. Well, not _all_ people- I don’t think so because I know better.”

Manami’s deep brown eyes crept over to Mel, who returned a rather knowing smile. Something told her it’d be a while before she could steer the conversation the way she wanted. After all, Cas wasn’t going to stop talking about sharks anytime soon.


	49. Warming Up IX

During the friendly game of pool he’d started with Scribbles, Rubin kept looking over at Manami to make sure of where she had wandered. He couldn’t help but chuckle when making his most recent look, as he noticed Cas jabbering to an increasingly bored Manami. Rubin didn’t even need to guess the topic of that one-sided conversation.

“Glad to see she’s getting to know people.” Rubin nudged Scribbles, getting the bald man’s attention. It occurred to him that her outfits may serve as conversation pieces, presenting a topic for discussion so that neither party had to guess what else to say. If so, that was fairly ingenious of her. He might suggest the same for Torres, though probably not quite using the same methods. “I was worried about her.”

“I doubt she’s having any trouble.” Scribbles peered from his peripheral vision, rubbing a cube of blue pool chalk on his cue stick tip. The blue marks on his pasty forehead and cheeks suggested he was using it quite a bit. It seemed fitting, since he was more focused on the game than Rubin was. In fact, Rubin’s constant tracking of her more so than other party guests was starting to wear on Scribbles. “Seriously, let her handle herself.”

Rubin sneered a bit. His friend was right, no matter how much Rubin tried to justify things. He was prone to meddling and hand-holding even when it was outright insulting to do so, but it was merely to keep the peace. Who could blame him?

“It’s great you give a shit.” Setting his hand on Rubin’s shoulder, Scribbles traced the crowd with his pool stick. He knew Rubin personally invited everyone there, so there was no reason to act like Manami was thrown to the wolves. Surely it couldn’t be hard to remind Rubin of that. “But these are your friends. You gotta trust them more.”

“I guess…” With silvery eyes lazily followed the tip of Scribble’ cue, Rubin felt somewhat conflicted. Yes, he was acquainted with almost everyone there, but could he say he felt easy with all of them? Those from the Stronghold were known to be rather rowdy, among which were Bruno and Lucas. She’d already brushed with Bruno, and Rubin was grateful that Mel was there to make him step down. Then there were the friends he knew from work, where a degree of traditional professionalism was expected. That made fertile ground for scornful attitudes.

Much as Scribbles tried to help, Rubin didn’t feel any easier. Did that mean he’d contradict Scribble’s heartfelt words? Hardly. This was something he had to keep to himself.

Besides, there were soon weightier matters on his mind, perhaps urgent judging by how wide his eyes soon opened. A glimpse at the doorway, briefly detouring from where Scribble’s implement aimed, gave him reason for alarm.

The latest pair to enter wasn’t on the guest list. It didn’t mean Rubin didn’t know them, but they weren’t invited nonetheless- and it was anything but a pleasant surprise.

A young woman wore her long, black hair in a half-ponytail, a tortoiseshell barrette holding back the shorter strands which normally framed her face. A sleeveless black maxi dress with white polka dots flowed on her slim form, the billowing cloth hiding her comfy black peep-toe flats. A medium powder blue denim jacket kept her arms warm in the increasing outdoor chill, an aubergine suede purse hung over her shoulder, and simple black pearl earrings fixed to her lobes. Her lips were tinted a delicate coral hue, and a misty blue was brushed around her dark eyes.

…Naomi.

To her right, the man whose arm she held wore a black mock-neck sweater and dull, baggy midnight blue jeans. A high-necked charcoal grey vest covered in shiny zippers was worn with these, though the zipper down the front was undone to make way for his expansive belly. Heavy black boots struck a familiar chord, as did his numerous body mods.

…Naomi’s mystery boyfriend, whatever his name was.

Setting his pool cue aside, Rubin squinted with displeasure. Party crashers were _not_ welcome.

“But I don’t trust _them_.”


	50. Warming Up X

Manami too had noticed the latest pair to enter the room, and it wasn’t something she could just leave alone. She extended her finger at Cas, attempting (and failing) to cut short the subject just so she could attend to this more important matter. “Hold that thought.”

Skirt jingling as she hurried to the door, Manami fully noted the hesitant expressions Naomi and the man beside her assumed. Was that part of their nefarious plan to interrupt the festivities by sowing drama? Probably. Perhaps, though, they were just now realizing how difficult that may be.

“Naomi!” Manami peered over at the shorter woman and her companion, slowing as she came closer. She scrambled to think up a good solution to get rid of those two before trouble started, but her foremost notion seemed as haphazard as most of her schemes. What else could she do, though? With a brief yet decisive nod, Manami motioned her open hand towards the entrance. “Sorry that you got lost. Where did you mean to go?”

“Manami?” Naomi found herself thoroughly confused not only by Manami’s sudden appearance, but by her presence at the party in general. Not only that, but Manami’s strange assumption certainly added to her bewilderment. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Of course not. This is the wrong room, after all.” Manami put her hand behind Naomi’s shoulder, trying to steer her back into the hallway. She was tempted to try the same with the big dude nearby, but he looked like he might bite. “I’ll be glad to walk you to the right place.”

Pulling away from the taller woman, Naomi shook her head with mild aggravation. Manami already knew Naomi was feisty in the first place, but Manami’s strange behavior wasn’t making things any better.

“Sorry.” Rubin stepped in to speak before Naomi even got a chance. While Rubin was probably first to notice them, Manami’s long stride beat him to the punch. Manami’s usual flair made him wish he was first to approach them, but he figured he could talk his way around that problem. Surely Manami couldn’t mess things up that quickly, right? “We’ve got a set guest list, and you’re not on it. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Naomi flared her nostrils, her frustration building as people kept getting in the way. Were they going to let her explain herself or not?

“Well, we can’t have you making a scene.” Rubin interjected calmly, ignoring that he stifled Naomi yet again. Looking over his shoulder briefly, he wanted to locate Torres. While he didn’t quite catch sight of his boyfriend, he was certain Torres would have a fit if he saw his ex. Why allow the evening to be ruined like that? Whether by his facial expression or body language, Rubin was sure to seem as implacable as he could. “Please leave.”

Naomi didn’t know who this joker was, but his constant interruptions were wearing on her last nerve. Grabbing the tattooed man’s wrist tightly, she weighed some of her options; either obliging Rubin by leaving, or ‘obliging’ him by actually raising an actual ruckus. While the latter sounded more fun, getting a better look at some of the massive guys in the background made her think someone could get hurt.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be verbal about it, rather than physical. Could she just hunker down and explain herself, though, even if she needed to raise her voice? Was that even worth a try? Rubin wasn’t giving up, but Naomi was pretty damn determined herself.

“It was-” Naomi’s volume raised a bit, enough for some guests to turn their heads curiously. However, it was just as quickly that she was prevented from speaking again. Who’d have guessed?

“…Me.” Torres emerged between Rubin and Manami, who were quickly perplexed to the highest degree.

“ _I_ invited her.”


	51. Warming Up XI

Rubin slowly turned to stare Torres straight in the eye. That was just about the last thing he expected to hear, so he was at somewhat of a loss for words. Though Rubin had been letting Torres take his time explaining his past with Naomi, he’d also made several hints about what kind of person she was. Why would Torres invite her to the party if she were such a horrible person, then?

The best Rubin could think to do was step out of the way, giving Torres a direct line of sight to his ex. He had no reason to block her entry any longer.

Torres peered over at Rubin, then Manami. He knew he’d have to handle this on his own, with little chance of another person speak for him. Granted, he did that just about every day he was at work, but this a professional setting was very different from a social setting such as this. As well, there were a few heavy topics on the horizon. Really, he felt like his heart was about to jump out his throat.

“Naomi…” Torres looked at the ground, wringing his hands. He’d like to say this was harder to do than he’d expected, but that would be wrong- this was _exactly_ as difficult as he’d foreseen. Now if only he could put that in the right words. “I-I wanted…”

“I think he figured he’d waited long enough.” Naomi took a step forward, holding her Torres’ way. Having received an unexpected (and highly emotional) phone call from him days prior, she’d gotten enough of an explanation to anticipate where the conversation was going. Much like Rubin, Naomi used to be Torres’ go-to for speaking in his place. “He didn’t want people to think I was the ‘ex from hell’ anymore.”

Manami tried not to smirk, as she’d used that exact same wording not long ago. Now wasn’t the time to laugh about coincidences, though.

“R-right!” Torres pointed to Naomi, his face softening as if a burden was lifted from him. He knew there were rumors about him and Naomi in the past, and a lot of them were his fault. It wasn’t that he actively talked down about her, but it was more of what he didn’t say; what about her he failed to defend. “People t-talked shit about her all the time, and I was sick of it.”

“So here you are.” Rubin absently fiddled with his ring, gazing at the others around him. It was strange to have his preconceived notions about a person shattered so quickly, but he guessed that was a good thing- it changed her image for the better, after all. That didn’t mean it would change overnight, of course, but now he had a clearer idea what to believe about her.

“We’ll see.” Naomi clung to the strap of her purse, her tense posture hinting she wasn’t quite comfortable with things yet. How could she be? No doubt, this party was full of people who’d last seen her when she and Torres were seniors and college; when the two of them broke up on ostensibly not-so-great terms. She regretted making the breakup seem less amicable than it really was, but she had her reasons. “I feel like I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to catch up?” Rubin put his arm on her back warmly, smiling to coax her out of discomfort. He had to wonder which came first; Torres’ efforts to catch up with Naomi, or with Manami. Somehow, he suspected the two events were related.

Manami held back from doing a little dance. Mention of ‘catching up’ meant he was thoroughly convinced of hers and Torres’ alibi about the office visit.

Naomi didn’t hesitate when Rubin showed friendliness, but she wondered nonetheless if stopping in briefly to say hi was better than fully intermingling with the crowd. She’d expected to rebuild her reputation gradually anyway, since it surely couldn’t happen within a few hours.

Then again, the woman standing nearby in a belt-skirt and lampshade-hat proved what kind of strange things could happen at this party.

“By the way, I’m Rubin.” His wide smile pushed at the apples of his cheeks, narrowing his silver eyes a little. His tone was soft and buttery, assuring her of his gratitude to meet her. “Torres’ boyfriend.”

“Wonderful to meet you.” Naomi held her hand to her chest, meanwhile flashing a brief look at her near-spherical companion. “This is my date, CJ.”

CJ looked at the others rather listlessly. He didn’t feel like he’d been part of the discussion up until that point, so he kept to a nonspecific response; a mere nod and grunt.

Moving to Torres’ side, Rubin waved at CJ and made sure Torres at least made eye contact. There was no telling how Torres felt about seeing Naomi romantically involved with another man, but it was probably not much different than Naomi seeing Torres with Rubin.

“It’s been so long, Naomi…” Manami looked over at Naomi, using the lull in the conversation to voice her part. While it wasn’t the only reason for their dissolved friendship, the fallout from Torres and Naomi’s breakup certainly sped up the process. But now, she wanted to be part of the revolution; to see old bonds strengthened like new. “Hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Naomi’s voice sounded less reverent that Manami, but given her last sighting of the woman it was understandable. For all she knew, Manami acted so weirdly as some kind of strange performance art piece. “I see you’re wearing your hat the right way.”

Manami could mentally picture the sarcasm dripping from Naomi’s words, but she’d roll with it. While she’d hoped her trick the other night worked and helped her elude detection, she supposed she needed to work on her technique. Clearly, there was a certain level of strangeness one had to assume for people to just give up paying attention. Thankfully, strangeness was her specialty- and she’d make sure to remind Naomi of that. “Oh, I just liked the look.”

While that in-joke made him chortle, Rubin was more focused on guiding the couple further into the room. There was an empty table by the kitchen, so it seemed like a good place to start. “Have a seat! Let’s get you settled in.”

Looking at one another for confirmation, Naomi and CJ gave in and sat cater-cornered from each other at the table. Their backs were to the crowd in general, but Rubin accepted anything they needed to do to get comfortable. Next, Rubin motioned toward the array of snacks and beverages. “Any drinks or anything?”

“I guess we can take a look later.” Naomi shrugged in response. She wasn’t sure where to start, but at least Rubin seemed like an understanding host. There was still some awkwardness to overcome, but at least he wouldn’t make it worse.

…Or so she hoped.

“All right, do what you’d like.” Rubin left the duo to themselves, since there was no use in meddling. He’d love to get to know them later, but he didn’t want to smother them, either. Perhaps one more trip around the room would work, just to make sure everyone present was content. Maybe he could even have a dance with the llama, because why not?

Except the matter of acquainting himself with Naomi and CJ was opening up other possibilities, and he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. As Manami departed to sit with the couple, Rubin was quick to take Torres aside to discuss his latest prospect.

“Torres? I got an idea…”


End file.
